Kiss Me Mummy
by HopelessWreck
Summary: Re-uploaded after some formatting issues-A break in from a familiar face and a mysterious puzzle box transports the team to a different time-where unfortunately none of them remember who they really are. An adventure written to coincide with the film The Mummy staring Jack, Ianto, Owen, Tosh and John Hart. Action, adventure and of course romance. J/I. Written for reel torchwood
1. Chapter 1

Prologue:

Something was going on in the archives. Toshiko Sato caught it first and called to Ianto Jones over the comms. She tried several times, but got no response. Annoyance painted her dark brows.

"What's got you in such a tut then?" Owen Harper asked as he swaggered to his workstation, scoffing at an indeterminable stain on his white lab coat. His coffee had long since grown cold and he could do with some more. _Bloody_ tea boy was slacking.

"I'm trying to get a hold of Ianto, but he's not responding."

"Yeah I could do with a fresh cuppa, but I think Ianto's with Jack," Owen told her blandly while scanning something into his computer, he shivered, "Probably naked on his _bloody_ desk."

Tosh froze, "Well that's not good, because there's something moving down in the archives," she informed, pointing to the position on her screen as Owen joined her. "And I was really hoping it was him."

Owen observed the disturbance with a frown, taking another sip and cringing, "That's bad."

Tosh nodded, though she wasn't sure if he meant the coffee or the intrusion, "Really bad."

Unknown movement in the Hub was more often than not a cause for alarm and Owen and Tosh both shared a look.

"Is it worth the risk?"

Tosh blinked, "What?"

"I really don't want to see anything between those two that I might need to be retconned for later."

"Owen," Tosh admonished.

"Fine," Owen grumbled. "Let's go then."

The two headed for Jack's office.

Ianto was, surprisingly, _not_ tied to Jack's desk in any kind of retina scarring scene that would haunt Owen for years-thank Christ, he was merely organizing. He looked up at their entrance with complete bewilderment.

Blue eyes went from Owen to Tosh with a questioning brow, "What is it? Lunch's not for another half hour."

Tosh shook her head, "Someone's in the archives," she said breathlessly.

No more words needed to be spoken. Ianto moved toward Jack, whose eyes were closed, but not because he was napping, (Jack Harkness didn't nap). He jostled the man's chair.

"Jack, wake up."

Jack snorted and his sky blue eyes flew open. "Wasn't sleeping," he mumbled. "Resting my eyes."

"Someone's in the archives." Ianto repeated Tosh's words briskly.

"Hell," Jack slurred. "Really?"

Ianto nodded. "Lunch may be a tad late," he noted, glancing at his watch.

Jack groaned, but grabbed his gun anyway. "Some people have no sense of timing."

Armed and ready, team Torchwood went to meet the unsuspecting intruder head on. The loss of an ill Gwen Cooper was suddenly felt in the four man team.

"You sure it's not just a big rat or something?" Jack asked as they crept along.

"Sir," Ianto repeated with the urgency one used in the middle of a nuclear attack, his toes hitting the back of Jack's heel in his haste. "There's someone in the archives." Messing with the archives was an act of war as far as the young Welshman was concerned.

"How come this _shit_ never happens when I'm _bleeding_ off," Owen wined, thinking of Gwen and her ability to pick the perfect days to be sick.

"Up ahead," Tosh pointed with her PDA.

Jack motioned them into position and they slowly made their way in. It didn't take long to find the intruder. (Who was really more an unwelcome pest than a stranger)

The striking red coat stood out against the otherwise dull color of the wall behind the all too familiar man.

"The _bloody hell_ is he doing here?" Owen asked quietly.

"I certainly didn't issue him a _bloody_ invitation," Ianto hissed, definitely peeved by the sight.

"Jack, what's he doing?" Tosh asked.

Jack didn't answer, because he had no clue.

The intruder was rifling, tossing things about rather noisily, and much to Ianto's chagrin, the place was a wreck. The unwelcomed guest suddenly stopped, something shone in his hands, though Jack couldn't see what.

Jack aimed his weapon, wondering how it was that John Hart had gotten around their security, shouting at the man to put his hands up.

John turned and the smirk on his face only made it that much harder for Jack _not_ to shoot.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jack asked him.

John opened his mouth, no doubt to spout something he found charming or witty, but he was cut off by a clicking sound. The object hidden in his hand seemed to come to life, surprising everyone in the room.

Ianto, Tosh and Owen all jumped back. Jack's eyes widened.

"Put it down! Now!"

But the words came too late.

A second later there was a crack and a white blinding flash.

There was a flash. A click.

Then nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

_Falling, twisting, everything was topsy turvy._

 _The world was bright then dark, then silent, then-_

When Jack awoke, it was to the sound of gunfire. His heart pounded as he grabbed at the sandy floor beneath him.

 _What the-_

It took a moment to calm himself as he remembered _._

 _Oh-right._

It still seemed a surprise every time Jack Harkness opened his eyes and it always took time to recall where he was; The Sahara, 1925.

He'd been here for weeks, yet it still seemed a shock every day that passed. Like Jack really ought to be somewhere else, though he couldn't explain why. The heat, Jack supposed, perhaps the heat was messing with him as it had with so many of his fellow comrades.

Another shot in the distance and Jack grabbed his gun before jumping to his feet. It came back to him, _attack_ , they'd been waiting for an attack. He stared out at the horizon and wiped a hand across his moist forehead. The Sahara, as usual, was a blistering furnace.

The muffled sound of hoofbeats on sand merged with the chilling cries of the advancing horde. Two hundred French Foreign Legionnaires filled the ruins below him. Armed and ready, the men waited in anticipation for the onslaught. Jack stood on what had once been the protective outer-wall of the city of the dead, _Hamanaptra's_ temple complex. His binoculars were tossed to the side. No need for them now.

"I knew this was gonna be a lousy day."

In an ironic or likely more _just_ way, it seemed fitting. Greed had brought them here, greed, not honor. The promise of riches and ungodly amounts of wealth had brought the garrison composed of thieves, murders and adventurers to this legendary city.

And now, Jack supposed, it was likely to be their tomb. The horde coming at them, the protectors of the city and all its wealth, they should have known they would never outrun them.

The slim man next to Jack sighed, what appeared a constant smugness painted his face. Jack knew from the moment he'd met Captain John Hart there something was different about him, "We could always just surrender."

Jack rolled his eyes and held out his palm, "Here, since you're not going to use it, gimme your bandolier."

"Is that really all you want me for, my bandolier?" John huffed, but handed it over. His blue eyes watched as Jack crisscrossed it across his own bandolier. His eyes fell back to the oncoming horde, "Let's run away Jack, just the two of us. Right now, while we can still make it."

"And miss all this fun? Not a chance," Jack repeated the gesture again, palm outstretched, "May as well give me the revolver too."

"And leave myself defenseless? I think not, Jack Harkness." John leaned closer, his breath a shiver at Jack's ear. It was a familiar and slightly erotic gesture, bringing about the thought once again, that something was very _off_ about this man. Jack just didn't know what. John continued, "I've got a better idea. Let's play dead, huh? Nobody ever does that anymore. We can even die on top of each other, tragically, like Romeo and Juliet."

Jack turned and their noses almost touched. His breath whisked across the other man's face and Jack studied his eyes intently. He'd been having inappropriate thoughts about his companion for a while now. The smaller man fit well in his red military coat, and Jack appreciated the view a little more than he should. Not to mention the mysterious man had sort of, _kind_ of, already kissed him awhile back. "Not now," Jack said, moving away to distance himself.

The man followed him up the wall, stopping only when Jack broke open his weapon to check its ammunition.

"You never did tell me, how'd a guy like you end up in the Legion anyways?" Jack asked. It was a breach of etiquette, many of the legionnaires were wanted criminals in their homelands and it wasn't usually openly discussed, but curiosity got the better of him.

The man shrugged from his crouched position, "I got caught robbing a synagogue. Lots of good stuff in those holy places; churches, temples, mosques, and who's guarding them?"

"Altar boys?" Jack guessed.

"Exactly!" John exclaimed with a lecherous grin, "The sweetest little altar boys too. What about you?" He continued tagging after Jack who strode the wall to where he could examine the front line of defense more closely. Legionnaires knelt at the ready as the Colonel paced behind them, contemplating his battle plan.

Jack turned, but the man was trailing so close that they bumped into each other. They almost went tumbling below, but Jack's reflexive embrace saved them. Jack grinned, perfect white teeth gleaming, "Paris. It was spring and I was looking for a way to impress a very delicious young man," He remembered it wistfully, before crashing back to the situation at hand, "Basically, I was just looking for a good time." He left out the part about being drunk.

"Well that makes two of us then."

They both turned at an eerie cry and watched as the cowardly Colonel, their _damned_ leader shook his head at the oncoming enemy. He panicked, throwing his arms in the air and turned tail and ran. Jack stiffened when the realization sunk in, the man had abandoned them.

"Congratulations," The shorter man said with a bland smile. "I think you've just been promoted."

The horizon was no longer anything but a blur of warriors.

"And just in time too."

"Damn it," Jack said to himself. His voice took on as commanding a tone as he could muster. He tried to give the men around him courage, but onward the horde continued. Several Legionnaires took off in fear.

"Steady!" Jack's voice rose.

Hooves pounded the sand and the enemy let loose horrifying screams that turned Jack's blood cold. It was terrifying and unsurprisingly more Legionnaires turned tail and hauled-ass. The warriors were coming in range, raising their rifles and taking aim-

"You're with me right?" Jack asked with a glance back at his friend, still directly behind him.

"Of course," John said, eyes not meeting Jack's.

The black garbed warriors gave another war cry and brought Jack's attention back to the battle.

"Sorry Jack," John murmured. He took one last look at Jack before he disappeared so quickly his feet barely hit the sand below him.

 _Really,_ Jack thought with disgust. He didn't have time to dwell on it though. He drew a deep breath, said a small prayer and yelled, "Steady, men. Steady!" _What the hell am I doing?_ He thought. He ought to have taken his friend's lead. Cowardly though it was, he really should have run too.

Jack steeled himself with the rifle in his hands and waited. He waited one more moment amid pounding hoof beats and screams, and then yelled, "Fire!"

The Legionnaires on the ground fired as one, the sound was like an explosion. Gunpowder blew in the air as they blasted dozens of warriors off their mounts. The fallen corpses became an instant barrier and the other still charging horses trampled and stumbled against them, grounding several more riders.

Jack knelt, waiting for his men to reload. He took aim himself this time and repeated the command, "Fire!"

Bullets yanked more warriors from their mounts and both men and horses fell into the sand, creating a cloud of chaos.

The enemy returned fire. The noise of their weapons was a rumbling, snapping, continuous wail that ripped the air. Their robes flowing so they appeared shadows, like horsemen of the Apocalypse riding through the smoke. No matter how brave or how well trained they were, the legionnaires were still two hundred men versus two thousand.

A third of the Legionnaires fell instantly, choking on dust and blood.

"Fire at will!" Jack shouted, retreating towards the temple entry, "Seek cover."

The remaining Legionnaires headed towards the temple, their boots were slowed by the heaviness of the sand, still their bullets rang true as several more warriors spun off their mounts. They took cover in the temple complex, but the enemy and their horses were everywhere.

Jack grabbed the barrel of his rifle and started clubbing riders off their horses. He finally threw his rifle down and went for his guns. He cross-drew one in each hand, and shot several of the riders clean off their mounts. He might never see his family or _hell_ even his country again, this was probably it, but Jack was too busy shooting to really care.

He kept on till the guns finally clicked empty. "Son-of-a-bitch." Jack turned and ran like hell.

Jack spotted a Legionnaire inside the Temple doorway. He was furiously trying to close the heavy sandstone door.

"Hey! Wait up!"

The man appeared not to hear him, or if he did, seemed to have no intention of _waiting up_. He pushed the door harder at the sound of Jack's voice.

Jack's stomach dropped, "What are you doing?! Wait up!"

He ran even faster, heart pounding till Jack felt it might explode. The unknown man pushed the door even harder. Four warriors charged after Jack, hoofs pounding like thunder behind him.

"Don't you close that door!" He shouted again, he pumped his arms for more speed, but it was still too far. He knew he wouldn't make it. "Don't you dare close that goddamn door!"

"Sorry," The word slipped, a genuinely apologetic look in the man's eye, as the door closed, right before Jack could reach it. Jack's fingers hit the solid stone in a stunned moment of disbelief. _That rat bastard_. Jack slammed his body into the door. It didn't budge.

Left with no other option, Jack turned and bolted. Running for his life, he weaved through the ruins, hoping against all hell to lose his attackers. Despite his best efforts, they weren't the least bit slowed down. They continued after him, getting closer and closer. The pounding hoofs got louder and louder, till Jack could all but feel the horse's breath on his neck.

Dammit.

Jack finally spun around to face his attackers, unarmed and helpless. The horsemen skidded to a stop right before him, stirring the sand as they raised their shining swords, intent to finish him off.

Jack did the best thing he could at that moment and sneered at them, giving them a very prominent two finger salute.

Suddenly, as if somehow the gesture had worked, all four horses reared up, throwing their riders to the ground. The horses screeched and snorted in fear, whining in a way no animal ever had before, and galloped away as if the devil himself chased them. Their equally spooked riders raced off after their mounts.

Wide eyed, Jack looked down at his raised fingers, stunned.

Something stirred behind him.

Jack felt it. Something was very, _very_ wrong. He turned and watched as suddenly, the sand began to shift. Not tremble as with an earthquake, it was something much stranger, it felt almost-

Evil.

Jack backed away, eyes never leaving the transforming sand. It began to shift; like huge snakes were slithering underneath, it formed lines and shapes, almost like some kind of ghostly hands were drawing a picture.

As the sands shifted a small octagonal gold box revealed itself. Instinctively, Jack scooped it up from the desert floor and dropped it in his pocket.

Riches be damned, he'd had enough of this place. Jack turned and ran and _ran_ across the ruins, moving as fast as he could. He knew he'd never return to the legion, that he'd be assumed dead. He never dreamed he'd ever return to this ungodly place.

The sand stopped moving, and though Jack couldn't see it, the form of a screaming face was drawn on its surface.

A group of riders watched far and away. Jack saw them, their strange tattoos and giant steeds. He watched them for a moment, and then staggered off into the desert.

"He has found Hamanaptra," one of the riders said to their leader. "He must die."

Dark eyes, amid a beautiful face stared after the man so foolish as to brave the cruel sands below them grimly. Her face was set like stone. "The desert will kill him," she decided.

* * *

Sometime later:

Deep in the bowels of the International Museum of Cairo, Ianto Jones stood atop a tall ladder between two rows of towering bookshelves. All the books around him pertained to literature on the Antiquities. He leaned against one of the bookshelves, feeling rather bored and a little tired.

The tall, slender man was dressed rather drably in an old suit. His bright blue eyes scanned from title to title to find the right spot for each volume. He bit his plush pink lips in between mumbling to himself as he was oft to do.

As much as Ianto loved this place, he longed for something a bit more exciting than simply being a librarian. Organizing books all day long was hardly an enviable job. Few could rival his skills in the reading and writing of ancient Egyptian and Ianto hoped one day to put those skills to use. To be out there discovering artifacts and learning more about ancient Egypt's sprawling past and not just the proper coding and cataloging of dusty, old books.

Ianto looked down at the books under his arm and sighed. He pulled out a particularly old volume and blew the dust off it, before placing it on a shelf with other books whose titles all begin with the letter "O". He grabbed another book out from under his arm and read the title.

"Tuthmosis?" he wondered aloud. "Now how did you get up here?"

Carefully, so as not to lose his balance, Ianto glanced over his shoulder to the bookshelf behind him, where all the titles begin with the letter "T" belonged. He looked down. _A long way down to fall_ , he thought. Deciding to risk it, he gently set the other books down on the top shelf, then turned and tentatively reached across the aisle with the Tuthmosis book. He stretched, holding the top of the ladder with his fingertips to keep steady.

"What on earth are you doing?" demanded a voice below him.

Ianto grasped the ladder, nearly falling back at the unexpected shout. He looked down at the curator, a one Dr. Bey, with both shock and annoyance, "I was just-"

The curator was a small round man with dark hair deeply receded, a pronounced nose and always dressed in a dark suit. "Just trying to get yourself killed," The man massaged his temples, "I only put up with you because your mother and father asked me to, probably the only two Welsh explorers in the whole of Egypt. Allah rest their souls. How would I explain to them exactly that their only son was killed by his own damned stupidity."

"But I-"

"No excuses, I won't be cleaning up any dead bodies that aren't mummified in my museum. I've got enough problems without needing to fill out any more paperwork. Do it properly or don't do it at all!" Bey bellowed, before he stomped back out.

Ianto glared at his retreating back. Irritated and a bit embarrassed, Ianto climbed down the ladder. He took a few steps before a sound came from behind him.

Ianto turned to look, to see if Dr. Bey had returned, but no one was there. The eerie silence stretched on as it often did in the sprawling, old building. Where rooms upon rooms were filled with coffins and other assorted artifacts all thousands of years old.

It could be a bit spooky Ianto would admit; perhaps he was simply overtired and hearing things?

Nope.

It sounded again. Like someone was walking with a slow shuffle, as if one leg was being dragged behind them. It seemed to come from the gallery across the way.

"Hello?" Ianto ventured. "Dr. Bey?"

Nothing for several long moments and Ianto almost breathed a relieved sigh, before he heard it again. He moved through the connecting room into the area where the treasures from the Middle Kingdom were displayed, where the noise seemed to be coming from.

Ianto peered in a bit nervously. Was someone in there? A prowler? A thief? He should really go get Dr. Bey.

 _No,_ Ianto decided. He could handle this.

The gallery was dark and eerily quiet. Filled with treasure and plunder, but little illumination, it seemed even darker than usual. The only light source was a few flickering torches on either end of the gallery. Ianto swallowed as he took another step in, grabbing one of the torches.

Filled with great cases of gold and silver ornaments taken from the tombs of ancient pharaohs, alongside golden amulets, necklaces, and all other fine types of jewelry, there really was plenty to steal.

Ianto moved down the aisle, past a closed sarcophagus.

The noise again, as if feet were shuffling, right near him. He swiftly turned, but nothing.

Ianto moved passed a statue of Anubis and Horus, both staring down at him menacingly. His skin prickled, he continued on, passing from one artifact to another, trying to convince himself it was only his imagination.

On his way further down, he saw something he definitely shouldn't have. One of the sarcophagi, one that had most assuredly been closed before, was now open. Ianto looked around nervously as he peered closer. Nobody was around to have opened it, _how then_ -

A loud screech sounded as the rotted mummy sat up, trying to grab him.

Ianto screamed and dropped the torch. He held his chest as his heart pounded in fear, completely terrified as he nearly crashed into a statue behind him. Then suddenly, from inside the sarcophagus, he heard a man's laughter. His eyes narrowed, he knew that laugh.

Owen Harper crawled out from behind the Mummy, laughing his ass off. His short dark hair was tossed about, sticking every which way and he looked and smelled like he'd been at the bar. Ianto scowled. The other man was obviously shit faced. Owen stumbled around as he tried to climb out.

"You-"

"Drunkard? Fool? Rat-bastard? Please call me something original," Owen finally found his grip and crawled out of the sarcophagus.

Ianto was tempted to slam the lid on Owen's head as he pulled a cigarette out of the mummy's mouth. "Have you no respect for the dead?" He demanded.

Owen grinned drunkenly, patting the mummy like he was an old chum, "Right now, I only wish to join them."

Steaming, Ianto paced, "What are you doing here? The curator's already upset with me as it is, I really don't need you in here making things worse."

Owen lurched forward unsteadily, "Sod that old geezer. The _bloody_ hell does he know anyway? Fired me, didn't he?"

"Yes, for pulling stunts like this," Ianto reminded him. "I wish you'd stop this, before you ruin my career the way you've ruined yours."

Going from a coworker to a friend, Ianto cared for Owen in much the way he would a younger, though in actuality _older_ , brother. An older brother who needed to seriously lay off the bottle.

"My dear, sweet, Ianto," Owen bellowed drunkenly. "I'll have you know that at this moment my career is on a high note." He tried to stay upright, but only managed to half hang off the arm of a nearby statue to keep from falling over.

Ianto raised a brow, "High note? For five years you've been scrounging around Egypt, and what have you to show for it? Nothing."

"Not true," Owen corrected. "I've been on a dig."

Ianto's brow rose. The idea of Owen Harper doing anything but drunkenly overtaking a bottle of bourbon was almost unthinkable, but a dig? To be sure, he repeated, "A dig?"

Owen beamed, "Oh yes, and I found something. It's right here you'll be happy to know," Owen patted around in his jacket, searching for something. "Just a moment if you will-"

Ianto shook his head, "Oh no, not another worthless trinket," he moaned. "Owen, I swear if I have to bring one more piece of junk to the Curator to try and sell for you-"

Ianto stopped when Owen retrieved a small ancient looking box. Curious he grabbed the box and Owen made no show to stop him. He rotated it in his hands, "Where did you get this?" He asked as he continued to scrutinize its golden surface.

Owen watched his antics and gave a mischievous smile, "On a dig, like I said. Down in-" he quickly pulled out a name, "-Thebes."

Ianto rolled the box around in his hands, appreciating its carved surface, mumbling to himself as he translated the hieratics and hieroglyphs covering it.

Owen licked his lips in anticipation, "My whole life I've never found anything. For the love of _Allah_ Jones, tell me I've found something."

Ianto fingers played with the various little slats on the object, shifting them much like a puzzle box, until something snapped in place. Rather suddenly, almost mechanically even, the small box opened, turning itself into what seemed to be an eight sided key. Inside the open box was a folded piece of golden papyrus. Ianto unfolded it and his eyes widened.

A map, Owen had found a map.

"Owen?"

"Yes?"

Ianto grinned, "I think you've found something."

* * *

Seated behind his desk in his cluttered office, Dr. Bey stared through a jeweler's eyepiece at the box with mild interest. Ianto hovered behind him. He pointed enthusiastically as he explained how to use the key and pointed out- "See the cartouche there, it's the official royal seal of Seti the First, I'm sure of it."

The Curator seemed unsure, "Perhaps."

"No perhaps about it," Ianto insisted.

Owen smiled from his seat across the desk. He held up two fingers, "Two questions. Who the hell is Seti the First? And was he rich?"

Ianto never knew if it was the drink or Owen really asking such questions. "He was the last Pharaoh of the Old Kingdom, said to be the wealthiest Pharaoh of them all."

Owen nodded, "Alright, good, that's good. I like this fellow, like him very much." He grinned as he leaned near the candle, a rather dramatic glow on his face.

The map was stretched across the curator's desk. Dr. Bey lifted it gingerly to get a better look.

"I've already dated it; this map is almost three thousand years old. And the hieratics over here indicate exactly what's being charted-" Dr. Bey looked up at him and Ianto breathed in deeply, "It's the way to Hamanaptra."

Dr. Bey froze, the map pulled in his white knuckled grip. He looked nervous for a moment, but quickly recovered. He gave a harsh sounding laugh, as if Ianto were a complete fool for even suggesting it, "My dear boy, don't be ridiculous, we are scholars, not treasure hunters. Hamanaptra is a myth."

"Are we talking about _the_ Hamanaptra?" Owen asked excitedly.

"Yes. The City of the Dead. Where the early Pharaohs were said to have hidden the wealth of Egypt."

The candlelight flickered on Owen's suddenly keen face, "Right, right, in a big underground treasure chamber. Everybody knows the story. The entire necropolis was rigged to sink into the sand. On Pharaoh's command, a flick of the switch! And the whole place could disappear beneath the dunes."

Ianto was impressed by Owen's knowledge, "You're Egyptology has really improved."

"Where treasure is concerned, good man, I'm a _bloody_ expert."

"It doesn't matter, none of its true," Bey chuckled; he held the map closer to the candle on his desk. "As the Americans would say: it's all fairy tales and hokum."

Owen raised a hand in warning, "Oi, watch it. You're going to-"

The corner of the map touched the flame and caught on fire. Feigning surprise the curator threw it to the floor, "Dear me, look at that."

Owen dropped to his knees and attempted to stamp it out with his hands. He held up the remains, but only managed to save two thirds of it. "You _bloody_ idiot. You burned it!" he accused. "You burned off the part with the lost city!"

"I am sorry," Bey bowed, looking anything but apologetic, "but it's for the best, I'm sure. Many men have wasted their lives in the foolish pursuit of Hamanaptra, no one has ever found it, most have never returned."

Ianto arched a brow, "My research indicates the temple city may have existed."

Owen still glared, "You killed my map."

"I'm sure it was a fake, anyway, I'm surprised at you, Mr. Jones, to be so fooled. However as for the box-" Dr. Bey reached for the box. "I may be able to offer a modest sum."

Ianto frowned and quickly snatched it before the other man could reach it. "No thank you, Doctor." Something in the man's eyes, how nervous he had seemed, Ianto didn't trust him one bit. "Suddenly, it's not for sale."

Ianto turned on his heel, feeling the Curator's gaze on him as he left.


	3. Chapter 3

Owen Harper may have been a bit of a fraud as an archaeologist and a complete armature where Egyptology was concerned, but where people like his friend Ianto Jones excelled in knowledge, Owen had resources. As often as his drinking was criticized, he was also one of the chosen few privy to certain information, slipped off the careless mouths of the locals. Like he happened to know where Jack Harkness was being held at that moment.

Cairo prison, the most dreadful place one could think of. And in a city _noted_ for dreadful places, that was really saying something.

The warden, Gad Hassan was a first rate scumbag. A thickset, greasy man with beady black eyes and a thick five o'clock shadow. His cream colored suit was stained with food, sweat and what suspiciously looked a bit like blood. He escorted Ianto and Owen across a small courtyard filled with pens from which moans of agony and horrifying smells emanated.

Owen thought quite possibly it was the smell causing the moans. He felt like moaning himself.

Warden Hassan ushered them forward, "Come, come, step over the threshold and welcome to Cairo prison, my humble home."

"Charming," Ianto's sarcasm was faint, but still very much there. He'd been irritated, even accusatory when he learned the truth about the puzzle box. Owen broke down; explaining he'd lifted the box from an unconscious Harkness, who had been involved in a drunken brawl. The other man had been arrested and Owen had swiped the golden treasure before anyone could notice.

Ianto was still steamed, "I can't believe you lied to me. You told me you found it on a dig down in Thebes!"

Owen shrugged, it wasn't as if it were the first lie he ever told. "I lie to everybody, what makes you so special?"

Ianto shook his head, "You stole it from a drunk at the local Casbah?! What were you thinking?"

The idea seemed less and less amusing as Owen realized they were in a prison; he really didn't need Ianto announcing his crimes to the world. "Keep your voice down will you?" he hissed.

Warden Hassan ushered them toward a barred cage that looked more like it belonged in a zoo. The heavily barred pen was attached to the prison wall, a meeting place for the prisoners.

Ianto observed the cage grimly, repressing a shiver.

Warden Hassan's eyes gleamed at his reaction, "You're one of those delicate types, aren't you?"

"Did you inform Mr. Harkness we'd like a word with him?" Ianto asked, avoiding the leering look in the filthy man's gaze.

At the words, the interior cell door burst open. A tall man in chains was pulled forward, held closely by four guards. He was filthy, face half hidden by grime and muck and an assortment of ugly purple bruises, Jack Harkness was barely recognizable.

"Ah," Warden Hassan said. "Here's your friend now."

The guards hurled the man against the bars, but even as he hit the steel with a nasty clang, Jack showed no pain.

"Is that necessary?" Owen asked.

"This man is a deserter, your friend," Warden Hassan beamed.

Ianto looked Jack over and turned to Owen, "Is this him? The one you stole it from?"

Owen laughed nervously, glancing at the warden, "My friend and his sense of humor," He patted Ianto's arm absently. "Yes, this is the man who _sold_ it to me."

Jack wedged his face between the bars and frowned, "Sold what to you?"

Owen cleared his throat and grinned nervously at Warden Hassan, "Is it possible for us to have a few moments alone with our friend."

"Friend?" Jack's brow rose.

A pound note was shoved into Warden Hassan's greasy palm as Owen shook his hand, "Five minutes. _Please._ " he hissed.

"But of course," Warden Hassan's eyes gleamed at the money. He bowed, "I shall return."

"I tremble with anticipation," Jack replied sarcastically.

A club slammed the back of Jack's head; his face hit the metal bars with a solid thunk that was sure to bruise. He glared at the guard behind him nastily, but still showed no inclination of pain.

"Unwise, most unwise," Warden Hassan tittered as he walked away.

Owen watched him leave and addressed Jack, "Might not want to get on his bad side there, mate-"

"Where have I seen you before?" Jack asked, cutting him off.

"I'm just-a-" Owen fumbled, "A local missionary, spreading the good word."

"Good Lord, Owen. Stop it."

At the voice, a voice Jack found he rather enjoyed, he gave Ianto the once over. He licked his lips, from dehydration or something else.

"Fills out a suit nicely, don't he?" Jack addressed Owen, instead of Ianto directly. His voice was like sandpaper from disuse.

Owen raised a brow; he observed Ianto himself and decided, "Couldn't really say one way or another." A bloke in a suit was a bloke in a suit.

Ianto frowned at them both, but spoke to Jack, "I'll have you know, that's harassment sir."

Jack smirked, "And so what if it is? You got a name gorgeous?"

Ianto tried not to cringe, "Jones, Ianto Jones and this is my-," he faltered a moment, " _associate_ Owen Harper."

"Associate?" Jack ventured with a leer. "Is that what they call it these days?"

"And you're Jack Harkness, right?" Owen asked, not liking his insinuation.

"Captain," Jack corrected him, "don't forget the Captain." His face was striped with the shadows of the prison bars, "Until I heard your accents, though lovely, I was sort of hoping you were the American Embassy."

"Sorry no." Ianto took a step forward, "We came to ask you about your puzzle box."

"My what?"

"Your puzzle box. The gold little knickknack with eight-sides? My friend sort of- _found_ your box-"

"That's right. Now I remember." Jack's fist flew through the bars and hit Owen square in the jaw. Owen hit the floor in an undignified heap, down but not quite unconscious. "Found? You _stole_ it from me," Jack spat. Another Guard clubbed Jack a third time. His head hit the bars again. He ground his teeth and gave the guard another nasty look.

"Anyway," Ianto continued, as if nothing had happened. "We have your puzzle box-"

Jack's dark brow rose. "I just decked your friend," he pointed out.

"Yes, well-" Ianto shrugged, "it happens surprisingly more often than you'd think."

Jack's mouth lifted. He thought he might like this tall, decidedly pretty Ianto Jones. Especially the way he bit his bowed lips as he observed Jack.

"We've come to ask you about the box."

"No."

Ianto frowned, "No?"

"No, Mr. Jones, Ianto Jones- _you_ ," Jack pointed at him, "came to ask me about Hamanaptra." White teeth flashed in the unshaven, tanned face

Owen, finally getting back to his feet and brushing himself off, said, "Keep your voice down! The _bloody_ walls have ears you know."

Ianto looked at Jack, "How do you know about Hamanaptra?"

"Because that's where I found it." Jack answered simply. "I was there."

Ianto blinked, "You were there?"

"Yeah, and if a caravan of diggers hadn't found me, I wouldn't be here to tell you about it."

Owen's jaw was still throbbing as he snapped, "How do we know that not just a load of shite."

"How about you come a little closer to the bars and say that-"

Owen took a step back, "Not _bloody_ likely, mate."

Ianto was too entranced by the idea to care about taking a step closer to the prisoner. He asked, "You were there, at Hamanaptra?"

Jack flashed him a grin, "Sure as hell was. Seti's place. The City of the Dead."

"You swear?"

Jack laughed, "Every _goddamn_ day."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "They must call you the comedian around here" he bit sarcastically.

"And you must be known as the stiff," Jack countered with a sneer. "Couple of days with me could change that."

Ianto lifted his chin, "You're hardly in any position to make remarks like that, _sir_. This is strictly business."

"Is it now?" Jack could hardly suppress another grin.

Ianto persisted, "What did you find? What did you see?"

"I found sand. I saw death. They aren't kidding when they say that place is cursed."

Ianto scoffed. "My interest is strictly for research. My friend and I are Egyptologists."

Jack's mouth twisted, "Well then I bet you'd really like to get there wouldn't you. To Hamanaptra I mean."

"Will you two keep your voices down?" Owen snapped.

Ianto leaned closer. So close Jack could see the true blue color of his gorgeous eyes as he asked, "Could you tell me how to get there?

"Better than that, I'll take you there."

"But Mr. Harkness you're rather," Ianto motioned to the cell, "indisposed at the moment."

Jack smirked, "I suppose I am."

"Couldn't you just tell us how to get there? Give us the exact location?"

"Have you opened the box?"

"Well-yes, yes we have."

Jack's brow crinkled in confusion, "Then you should already have the map."

Ianto looked to Owen who shrugged a bit sheepishly, "A bit of a mishap, that. The part we need was sort of kind of, well it's sort of-gone."

Jack rolled his eyes, but Ianto pointed out, "You've been there. You can tell us the way,"

Jack nodded, "I'll take you there."

"But how?"

"Well you might want to start by-I don't know, maybe by-"

Ianto leaned right up to the bars, nervous, yet too excited to move away, "Yes?"

Jack licked his lips again. Without thinking, he leaned forward and kissed Ianto full on the lips. Because really, with lips that pretty, the man was all but asking for it.

Something flashed at the quick yet fierce touch. It was like a clash of lightening and it shocked Jack, sending a jolt up his spine. He saw an image that he couldn't decipher, like a window covered in fog. Then the fog seemed to lift and it all came flying back. His eyes shot open and he could see the look of shock on Ianto's face too. Though it seemed to be the kiss itself that appalled the younger man and not the flash of everything Jack had just seen-

The truth hit Jack like a slap and he physically gasped as he took it all in.

 _Torchwood_ , Ianto Jones, Owen Harper, they were-this was definitely all wrong.

Jack expected the next blow and didn't even dodge it when they clubbed him again. His face bounced off the bars again, but he didn't even feel it. He was going to say _get me the hell out of here_ , but as he met Ianto's eyes he hissed, "Ianto, it's me, it's Jack it's-."

Ianto flew away from him, no ounce of recognition, only shock and surprise, "You're mad!"

"No, Ianto it's-" Jack was yanked away from the bars and dragged forcibly out of the room.

Ianto followed the guards and Jack with his eyes as far as he could. The struggling man continued yelling his name. Ianto shuddered at the wild look in his eyes. The man was obviously off his trolley. "Are they going to beat him?"

Warden Hassan was back at his side, "Oh no Mr. Jones," he said pleasantly. "They'll be no time for that."

"No time? What do you mean?"

"He's about to be hanged."

"Hanged?"

"He's a deserter for the foreign Legion, as I said. That's very much a hangable offense. We have a standing agreement, you see. For fifty pounds we waive the Legion the trouble of extradition and simply deal with the deserters ourselves."

"With no trial?" Ianto asked.

Warden Hassan laughed as if Ianto had said something funny, "Trial? Your humor is most amusing Mr. Jones, but I'm afraid that my presence is required-a formality I fear, but I am a stickler for doing things right."

"Let me come with you," Ianto demanded.

"Oh _bloody_ hell, Jones. Why?" Owen raised his arms with a groan.

Warden Hassan observed him and finally shrugged, "So be it. Have you ever witnessed a hanging before, Mr. Jones?"

Ianto shook his head.

Hassan's green teeth gleamed, "Then you're in for quite a treat."

* * *

Owen, Ianto and the warden stepped on the balcony overlooking another courtyard, where behind the barred windows hundreds of filthy prisoners could look down at the gallows that had been erected. The gallows were open to all the onlookers, where they could openly mock and badger the person to be hanged.

Jack was led up onto the gallows by the same guards who'd manhandled him before and positioned on the trap door. A hangman in a black mask draped the noose around Jack's neck, and then cinched it tight. Jack noticed Ianto and Owen in the balcony.

Watching the whole scene with a feeling of trepidation, Ianto knew he couldn't let Jack Harness, possibly his only lead at finding Hamanaptra die, even if he was a lecherous looking criminal who'd gone mental during his imprisonment.

Ianto took a seat beside the Warden, ignoring the feeling of Jack's eyes on him. His lips still burned and he swore he'd blush if he thought on the kiss too long. And the way the man had screamed his name afterwards-

"I will give you one hundred pounds to spare his life. That's twice as much as the Legion's paying you."

Owen could barely believe his ears, what was Ianto doing? Wasting a hundred pounds on this lout-

Warden Hassan's nose twitched and he swatted away a fly. "I would pay one hundred pounds just to see him hang."

"Two then," Ianto tried again.

"Two hundred pounds?" Owen exclaimed, "Ianto, you can't be-"

Ianto nodded curtly, "Two hundred pounds."

Warden Hassan shook his head dismissively and raised a hand. "Proceed!" he called to the hangman.

Ianto countered, feeling a bit desperate, "Three hundred pounds!"

Owen clutched at Ianto's shoulder, "Are you daft, man?"

Ianto stared daggers at him and whispered one word so only Owen could hear, "Hamanaptra."

Warden Hassan didn't even reply to Ianto's offer.

Jack watched the exchange with a mixture of hope and fear. This was insane; he was trying to piece it together, what the hell was going on and what they were doing here? He had no answer for either and now he was going to die. _Again_.

The Hangman turned to him and Jack reeled from the stench of his breath as he laughed, "Any last requests, _pig_?"

"Yeah, I'd like ya to let me go," Jack tried on a whim.

The hangman, obviously not a very bright sort, looked confused for a moment. He yelled the request in Arabic to the warden.

Warden Hassan called back, suddenly angry, "Of course he can't go you fool, get on with it!"

Embarrassed, the hangman gave Jack an angry glare. Jack's eyes widened as he grabbed the lever to the trapdoor. _Come on Ianto_ , he mentally pleaded.

"Five hundred pounds!" Ianto exclaimed.

Owen covered his face with his hands and groaned.

Warden Hassan's eyes shined and he leered, putting a hand on the other man's knee. "And what else?" He ventured, suggestively. "I'm a very lonely man-"

Ianto shoved the hand away in revulsion. Did no one believe in personal space anymore? "Nothing else."

Warden Hassan's pride was wounded and the rude, crude laughter from the observing prisoners who'd seen the exchange filled the area all around them. The warden turned, both insulted and angry, and he gestured to the Hangman. Ianto's heart dropped as the man's meaty hand pulled the lever, a giant grin on his ugly face.

Ianto reached out as if to stop him, but it was too late.

The trapdoor dropped away.

Ianto couldn't stop his scream. "NO!"

Jack dropped through the hole. The rope pulled taut and Jack's body snapped. Yet surprisingly, he didn't die.

"Ah." Warden Hassan laughed and pointed for Ianto to see, "His neck did not break! Good! Now we watch him strangle to death."

Jack struggled and the roars of screaming and shouting from the watching prisoners filled the area. The guards looked around at the raised voices, nervously.

Ianto watched the man struggle, utterly horrified. Beside him Owen, gasped, looking a bit pale as he too watched on. " _Bloody_ _hell_ ," he murmured.

Ianto quickly turned to the warden, and whispered in his ear. "He knows the location to Hamanaptra."

Warden Hassan spun on him, "You lie," he accused.

"I'm not," Ianto insisted.

Jack continued to choke, turning red and unable to breathe.

Warden Hassan stared back at Ianto, "Are you saying this filthy godless son of a pig knows where to find The City of The Dead? Truly?"

"Yes and if you cut him down, we will give you ten percent."

"Fifty percent," Warden Hassan countered.

"Twenty."

"Forty."

Ianto bit his lip as he hesitated.

Jack tried to scream at him, "Give-give him-give him GLAAAA-!" He couldn't finish.

"Twenty five," Warden Hassan said.

"Done!" Ianto said and shook hands before the man could realize he'd just lowered his half.

Warden Hassan didn't seem to notice. He flashed a crooked smile and yelled something in Arabic.

A scimitar slashed through the air, slicing the rope in one swipe. Jack crashed to the ground with a heavy thump. He rolled over, gagging and choking for breath. Cheering filled the air, but Jack was in too much agony to hear it. He massaged his neck and looked at Ianto, who gave a slight smile and a shrug.

Good god they were stuck in the 1920's and Ianto and Owen didn't know who he was. They were apparently chasing a treasure map to a City of the Dead, a city he'd apparently been to and Jack had no damn clue what the hell was going on. Then of course there was John Hart, who'd been with him in the battle in the desert.

To coin a phrase most often used by one Miss Gwen Cooper, _Bloody Torchwood._


	4. Chapter 4

Jack had to get them to remember, that was the only thought running through his head. He'd desperately tried to get to Ianto and Owen after the whole almost hanging thing but Ianto had skittered away and dragged Owen with him, tossing some money at Jack to 'clean himself up'. Ianto almost seemed afraid of Jack and his wandering lips, which might have been humorous in another situation. _Little_ _Tease_ , Jack thought _._ Though they had promised to meet up the following morning, Jack still couldn't help but be worried.

Ianto managed to somehow look like he belonged in the time wearing a suit that made him delicious enough to eat, but Owen's riding boots and cream trousers were a sight Jack would childishly admit looked nothing short of ridiculous.

The idea of a bath and sleep (even if he didn't really _need_ the later) was too good an opportunity to pass up and Jack gladly took it. Exactly how long had he been in that prison anyway? His mind was filled with holes as he fought against a life that wasn't really his, but had felt so real. How had they gotten here and why? And what about the others? Gwen? Toshiko? Where they here too?

A snide voice filled his ear, though there was no sign anyone else had entered.

"Interesting display you made out there," A hand ran up his arm, as a voice, a voice Jack now very much remembered, breathed, "Hello Jack."

Aware that he was both nude and wet, Jack grabbed the shorter, smaller man and shoved him against the nearest wall.

John Hart barely looked surprised, "You remembered."

"No thanks to you," Jack spat. "Tell me, did you have fun toying with me in the damn desert or were you really just interested in little altar boys?"

"Oh come on Jack, don't be-"

Jack shook him. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded, "What are you up to?"

"Must we always meet under the guise of violence? _Honestly_. Though I certainly don't mind the view that's for sure," John's eyes roamed down Jack's long, lean and very naked body and Jack rolled his eyes. John continued, "And why does it always have to be _me_ that's up to something."

The room Jack had rented was small, but decent enough. The bathroom was only covered by a flimsy curtain and water from the bath had splashed across at Jack's ascent, soiling the room and John Hart in water.

Jack tightened his grip, "Not in the mood, John."

John laughed, "Funny, I thought you were always in the-" Jack's eyes darkened and he stopped. John sighed, "No time for banter then I see. You want the truth? Fine." John gave a deep breath, "I have no _bloody_ clue, there, happy?"

Jack's eyes narrowed, "It was you, you did something, didn't you?" He could vaguely remember it now, John sneaking in and messing with something, "You brought us here."

John swallowed around Jack's hand painfully attached to his windpipe,. "I didn't mean to."

"Famous last words," Jack muttered. "How long have you known you didn't belong here?"

John's eyes wandered sideways, "Not long-"

"And you didn't, you know, think to try and tell me what was going on?"

"You think I didn't try?" John scoffed. "You called me crazy, remember?"

Jack shook his head, it was more than possible John was telling the truth, but one could never truly be sure. "What the hell were you doing there anyway? Pretty sure I didn't invite you to come into my place and start touching my things."

John's eyes lit playfully, "You know how I like to show up unannounced. Makes me much more mysterious, don't you think? And for your information I was looking for something, a device you stole from me-"

Jack ignored him, "What about Gray? You said you found him."

John smirked, "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't," something twisted in his face, his smile dropped for a second before returning with a vengeance, "Your skin still looks amazing by the way. Do you moisturize?

"Answer the question."

John shifted against Jack's hold and sneered, "You know those two could get themselves in a lot of trouble without you. I'd really hate for something to happen to either of them just because big daddy Jack wasn't there to save them." He grinned, "Don't look so worried, I'm sure they'll figure out the truth. Eventually. Hopefully, before they somehow get themselves killed. Wouldn't that be tragic?"

"You're avoiding my question and trying to piss me off," Jack warned with a forced smile.

John tried to look innocent, "I would never."

Jack just shook his head, knowing it would lead him nowhere to press about Gray. He needed to deal with their present (or was it past) predicament and not what could potentially be another lie or John simply using his brother against him, "What about Gwen and Tosh, have you seen either of them?" Gwen was probably safe back in Cardiff; she'd been a home with the flu, Tosh however-

John grinned, "Those gorgeous little things?" His humor fell at Jack's stare. "I haven't, Jack. Honestly, I haven't. Two out of four isn't bad though, right? And of course," he sneered, "you always have me."

"Typical," Jack growled before finally retracting his hold on John. "Obviously, you've been watching me, even after you _left_ me in the desert."

John rolled his eyes, "You make me sound like an ass."

"Aren't you?" Jack deadpanned. "And how exactly did you remember all this before me?"

John looked a bit flushed as he straightened his now wet coat with a huff, "Don't know. It all just flashed on me one day, maybe I hit my head?"

Jack frowned, "So you stayed with me, even though I didn't know who you were, out in the desert?"

"I suppose I'm just dedicated like that," John batted his eyes. "It's what makes me such great marriage material."

"Until the battle came," Jack said. "Then you tucked tail and ran."

"I'm a romantic Jack, not stupid. We were clearly outnumbered and I'm not exactly packing my normal heat." He pointed to his wrist, which was minus one wrist strap.

Jack stared down at his own bare wrist as well.

"So, what's say you drop the kiddies off at school for a while and you and I go rip up the twenties and have some real fun."

"The twenties, huh?" Jack considered, but dropped the idea. "Already did them, not as roaring as you've been lead to believe. The forties, now that was a-" He stopped, feeling himself getting carried away in past lives and times, getting distracted from the task at hand.

"Admit it. It's a little exciting, isn't it?" John smirked and touched Jack's bare arm playfully. "What do you say, why don't you ditch the baggage and let's hitch a boat to the states and find the nearest speakeasy. Go get wasted and screw like cats in heat."

Jack's eyes went dreamy at the thought. Slowly, he leaned in as if to nuzzle John's face. He stopped just as his cheek brushed John's and he whispered. "Not a chance."

"Fine, then I guess I'll pack my bags too. We'll have ourselves a good old (and I do mean _old)_ fashioned road trip-"

" _No._ "

"No? What do you mean no?"

Jack poked his chest, "If you think for one minute I'm letting you near my team again, then maybe you _should_ go visit a speakeasy, because you're clearly inebriated if you think I'm going to let that happen."

"Oh don't be like that," John folded his arms. "It was all just a bit of fun."

"That almost got us all killed," Jack reminded. "I did die, in fact. Remember?"

"But you came back," John pouted. "And I remember when you used to like when I killed things."

"Yeah well, things are different now."

"Why?" John said. "Because you've got a cute office boy with a magical kiss and a pert little ass? Admit it Jack, under this entire good guy façade you're still the same. We both are."

Jack gave a wicked smile, "That's because clearly rehab didn't work for you."

John didn't smile back, "Don't forget who knows you better than anyone else, Jack Harkness. You're on loan to these people, you belong to me."

"That might have been kinky about a decade or two ago John, but frankly, it's all looking a little desperate now."

John scowled "First you get water all over me, then you stand there looking like," he motioned, " _that_ and you expect me to carry on a conversation when it's so obvious-" John's voice was small. "Sometimes I swear you just-" he held up his hands and made an exasperated sound. "You're such an ass, you know that."

The man stomped out of the room, and Jack almost wanted to stop him. Almost.

Teams of explorers swarmed the docks. Under the hot, dry afternoon sun, the sky seemed to sizzle against the heat. Several small boats laden with passengers and cargo glided across the Nile, sails spread and set for adventure. Ianto and Owen walked along the boardwalk besieged by hawkers selling their wares.

Ianto shooed away a rather persistent merchant and turned to Owen, "How do we even know he'll show up? For all we know he took that twenty pounds and drank himself to the nearest bar."

"I know that's what I'd do," Owen mumbled. "But I think Harkness will show. He's one of these American Cowboy types. His word is his word."

Ianto crossed his arms. _Cowboy?_ The man had kissed him without permission and he looked like a filthy letch, "Personally, I think he's filthy, rude and a complete scoundrel. I don't like him one bit."

"Anyone I know?"

They both turned. Jack's entrance was much more the type he was used to. Shaved, showered, polished and with new clothes; including the closest thing he could find to his greatcoat, he felt much more the dashing man he always claimed to be.

Ianto's eyes rounded to a big beautiful blue as they raked over Jack in surprise, "Oh-um," He stuttered.

Jack couldn't help a grin. Seemed he didn't even need to be remembered to make an impression. _Still got it Harkness_ , he thought.

Owen nodded towards Ianto, "Don't worry Harkness; he was talking about some other filthy scoundrel."

"Well he sounds just awful," Jack said with a giant smile.

Ianto made a dismissive sound in his throat. He gave an exaggerated clearing of the throat, "Mister Harkness, can you look me in the eye, and guarantee me this is not some sort of joke? Because if it is, I'm warning you-"

Jack took a step closer and was tempted to kiss the Welshman again to see if it might help spark something, but decided against it. There was still only confusion in Ianto's gaze, not an ounce of recognition.

Jack sighed. "I don't suppose I can talk you out of all this, can I?"

Ianto raised his brow, "Mr. Harkness, you gave your word. Are you turning back on that already?"

Jack took another step forward, but Ianto moved back. Owen looked a bit put off and uncomfortable, but Jack tried for an explanation anyway, "What would you say if I told you two we're from the future, that we don't belong here." He motioned between them, "That we three are all part of a secret organization that-"

"Captures aliens?" Owen finished for him with a laugh, "Perhaps you _have_ been in the tavern, Harkness, dreaming up stories from the sounds of it. Least you could have done is brought a bottle with you."

Ianto's eyes were huge and Owen looked amused, though slightly cautious. Jack realized then, this wasn't going to be as easy as he'd thought. He didn't want to scare them off completely, and from the looks of it, that's about all he was doing. They all had a bit of a boat ride ahead of them and the last thing Jack wanted was to send either of them running off. Not until he could figure this all out.

His wrist strap was gone, which was both worrying and incredibly puzzling and then there was John Hart, pulling the strings or just watching the show, Jack wasn't sure which.

Ianto was damned determined when he wanted something and Jack knew he was getting on this boat, with or without Jack on it.

"Is this your way of trying to back out, Mr. Harkness? Because I must say it's rather unbecoming, making up stories like that," Ianto folded his arms and sniffed.

"Yeah, yeah, can't blame a guy for trying." _Goddamn_ stubborn his team was. "I'll take that," Jack swiped Ianto's bags and headed up the gangplank.

Ianto's eyes trailed after Jack, a bit confused, but also slightly wistful. Owen caught his gaze with a slight smirk, "Yes, yes, you're right, filthy, rude, a complete scoundrel, nothing to like there at all. Bit of a nutter though, eh?"

Ianto gave him a look and Owen grinned.

Jack was halfway up the plank when he heard the last voice he really wanted to at that moment, or any other moment really.

"A bright good morning to all."

Jack whirled around, but Ianto beat him to the question, "What are _you_ doing here?"

Warden Gad Hassan tipped his raggedy red hat to Ianto, "I have come to protect my investment, thank you very much. As my people know, your type have a way of saying nice things as they pull the carpet out from under you."

The warden followed Jack up the plank, "No hard feelings, I hope."

Jack wanted nothing more than to toss the man overboard, but he grit his teeth, "Next time you want to try out a new necktie, might I suggest something less abrasive. I do hate a chaffed neck."

Warden Hassan shuffled off, looking a bit nervous. He'd never dealt with the tall intimidating Jack Harkness not bound in chains, especially with the slightly maniacal grin he wore.

"This should go smashingly well, don't you think?"

Ianto ignored Owen and they both walked up the plank as well.

Jack carted Ianto's bags inside his cabin. He dropped them unceremoniously before turning to leave. "I'm going to go have a look around." He patted the man's arm absently without even realizing he'd then squeezed his hand affectionately.

He didn't see Ianto's look of confusion or the slight flush at his exit.

* * *

After they'd finish dining that night, Jack stood at the railing of the lower deck and watched the moon's reflection on the water. His gunnysack was beside him as he pondered his situation, wondering how in the hell he was going to get them out of this one. Back to Cardiff, back to their own time. He was rewarded nothing but a headache so he scooped up his bag and decided to visit the bar at the bow of the boat.

Right in the center, a poker game was in progress. Four people he didn't know, but clearly looked American and Owen Harper all sat at a round table. None of the Americans were particularly interesting to Jack, attractive enough, but he was too bothered to feel up to flirting. He continued to watch as they joked and drank, betting all their money away. Jack was a bit apprehensive watching Owen blather on, saying god knows what with his loose and very inebriated tongue. The other men had to be heading out for their own dig. That seemed to be what everyone on this boat was here for.

A million to one bet, they were heading for Hamanaptra too.

Jack joined the table in time to watch the dark haired one with glasses, Burns, clean his rims for the fourth time, much to the annoyance of his blond companion, Henderson, "For Christ's sake Bernie you see well enough. Cut the damn deck already."

"Got to be able to see them to cut them," Burns insisted.

"Join us, Harkness," Owen said waving toward an empty chair. "We could use another player."

"No thanks. Not much of a gambler." Jack observed Owen who already looked three sheets to the wind. "Owen, maybe you should-"

"Not what I hear, Harkness, only a gambler goes looking for the City of the Dead."

Jack smiled back at Henderson blandly, "Who says I'm looking for the City of the Dead?"

"Little Lord Farling here," Henderson pointed a thumb at Owen, his floppy blond hair fell into his face.

Owen smiled awkwardly as he tried to avoid Jack's glare.

"What do you say, Harkness we got a bet? Five hundred pounds to whoever reaches it first."

Jack knew a gauntlet being laid down when he saw, or rather _heard_ , one, and honestly Henderson was pretty handsome up close. Jack's grin was wide, if not a bit forced, "Fine. You're on." He picked up the gunny sack he'd been carrying and pulled up close to Owen, "Watch your big mouth, will you?" He turned, causing the sack to whack Owen in the head for good measure and headed out onto the deck.

The breeze had turned from slightly cool, to downright cold. Ianto sat at a wicker table, having the whole deck to himself, reading of all things. Jack felt a sudden warmth fill him as he saw the young man so engrossed in his book; he didn't even hear him approach.

Typical Ianto Jones.

Jack dropped his gunnysack on the table and the other man jumped, startled.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

Ianto pulled his book closer, "Your manners are more frightening than anything, Captain."

Jack held back a snicker, "Still angry that I kissed you, huh?" It certainly wasn't their first kiss, not for Jack anyway, but for Ianto, correction _this_ Ianto-

The flustered man's pale Welsh skin reddened the slightest bit, "If you can call _that_ a kiss."

Ianto pointedly went back to his reading and Jack shrugged. He knew better than anyone when the other man was playing hard to get. He reached into the gunny-sack and began pulling out revolvers, pistols, hunting knives and a half dozen carefully wrapped sticks of dynamite.

 _Ah, the good old twenties_ , Jack thought. There was a deep feeling of nostalgia as he handled a massive elephant gun.

Arching a brow and peering over his book, Ianto noted the weapons, "I wasn't aware we were entering a war-zone."

"The last time I was at that place everybody I was with died." Which was true, Jack half wondered if he hadn't died out there himself and just not realized it. He wasn't about to walk back in there empty handed.

"I suppose certain precautions are necessary," Ianto granted, he held up a pistol and observed it in the moonlight.

Jack sat in the chair across Ianto, he felt compelled, pulled by those eyes he could stare into for eternity, "Can I ask you something."

Ianto returned the weapon, "Yes?"

"Does the name Torchwood mean anything to you?"

"Torchwood," Ianto tested the name, but shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Should it?"

"I guess not," Jack's small hope extinguished. "I don't suppose you know a Gwen Cooper or a Toshiko Sato either?"

"What?" Ianto regarded him suspiciously, "Why are you asking me all this? You've been saying strange things all day, in fact."

"Nothing, it was going to be the start to a really good joke but," Jack's lie cut out as Ianto glared at him disbelievingly, "Sorry, I'm just babbling. I think I had too much to drink at dinner."

"You and Owen both," Ianto mumbled.

"Does he normally drink this much?" Jack was a bit worried, the way Owen had put one after another back like it was nothing.

"Usually more."

Jack nodded, his eyes moving back to the weapons sprawled out around him. "Have you noticed the Americans? Owen seems to have gotten pretty chummy with them."

Ianto nodded; face pinching, "I noticed them alright. I recognize one of them, a Dr. Chamberlin. He was a renowned Egyptologist in America that left following some kind of scandal." He looked offended at the thought, "I'm sure they're nothing more than treasure hunting riffraff."

Jack smirked at him, "Guess what treasure they happen to be hunting."

Ianto groaned, "Hamanaptra, of course it would be Hamanaptra."

"And guess who told his new American chums about our plans?"

Ianto sighed, "Owen. Of course he did. Treasure, wealth, gold, that's all he ever thinks about."

"And booze," Jack said.

Ianto gave a weak smile, "Sometimes I think he's no better than those Americans."

"What about you?" Jack asked, genuinely curious. Ianto hardly seemed the treasuring hunting type, even here. He much preferred spending his time alone (or as alone as Jack would let him), reading or organizing the Hub and making coffee. God, Jack really missed Ianto's coffee.

"I'm looking for a certain book."

 _Bingo,_ Jack thought triumphantly. "Book?"

"A certain antiquity if you will." Ianto put his own book down and leaned forward conversationally, "Now let me ask _you_ something, Mr. Harkness. What did you find out there, aside from your little golden box, anything else of interest?"

Jack looked out at the peaceful shimmer on the Nile, "I found something older than civilization itself." And he should know. "Evil."

Ianto gulped, "Evil?"

"Yes, evil, and a whole heaping lot of it too." He raised a brow, "Sure you don't want to go back to Cairo now? Or we could go visit the states, do a bit of sightseeing if you want. I'll even buy you a nice hat-"

Ianto huffed. "I don't believe in fairy tales and hokum, _Captain_ , but I do believe that one of the most famous books in history is buried out there, The Book of the Living. It's why I'm here."

Jack snorted, but covered it with a cough, "You're going on an expedition of this magnitude for a book? What's it made of, gold?"

Ianto nodded, "Exactly. How did you know?"

"Lucky guess. So you're looking to sell it then, could make a nice little sum off it I'm guessing."

Ianto looked offended. "I'm looking to study it Mr. Harkness, not sell it," he frowned and looked away. "I suppose I shouldn't expect a man like you to understand."

Jack didn't know why, but the comment stung.

The moon slid behind a cloud, making reading nearly impossible now. Ianto rose, looking a bit uncomfortable, nervous even. He got up as if to leave, but didn't. He stood there hesitantly, working up the nerve to ask. "By the way, I've been meaning to ask you, why did you kiss me?"

Jack considered the answer with a smile, "It just seemed like the right thing to do. Why? You want to do it again?" He asked earnestly. He couldn't stop the quickening of his pulse at the thought.

"I-" Ianto drew in a sharp breath, eyes widening. He fumbled for a moment, then turned and stormed off.

Jack watched him leave, truly puzzled, but more than that, disappointed, "What did I say?"

The gunny sack was almost completely repacked by the time Jack looked up to see a familiar form. He really shouldn't have been surprised by the return presence of John Hart, but as the man sat in Ianto's vacated seat, Jack felt his hackles rising.

"Well, well, what a surprise," John fake gasped. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Should have known," Jack mumbled. "What do you want, John?"

"Seems your charm isn't working eye candy over very well, is it?"

Jack ignored him, "Are you here specifically to piss me off or-"

"Always about you, isn't it?"

"I'm pretty sure I told you to stay away from them."

"No, you told me I couldn't come on your road trip," John corrected. "So I simply made one of my own."

"You have a way of twisting things-"

"Well I learned from the best."

Jack looked at John, "I'm going to protect them, you know." It was a warning, as well as a fact.

"You always did have more balls than brains." There was bitterness in John's tone.

Jack's eyes narrowed at the insult, "I mean it."

John stood up, "It's going to be a long cold night, Jack. How about you and I go back to my cabin, I'm sure we can find some way to keep warm."

Jack followed his lead and rose from his own seat. He leaned closer, until he could see the lust gleaming in John's eyes. His voice dipped, "You're right it is cold. But, I have a better idea." He cornered the smaller man until he was at the edge of the railing.

The moon reflected in John's eyes, "Right here, Jack? You naughty boy you."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, "Right here is perfect." He leaned closer until their lips were centimeters apart. He whispered at John's trembling mouth, "I think we both agree you deserve this."

John's eyes widened, but it was too late. One swift push and John fell right over the edge, tumbling into the freezing water below.

His voice echoed across the water, "Really Jack? This all a bit immature, don't you think?"

Jack regarded him with a smirk of triumph. "You pushed me off the roof, remember? This makes us even," he called out.

Whatever reply John shouted back at him was lost as Jack noticed the four sets of footprints (wet footprints at that) covering the wooden deck. As if someone (four someone's) had climbed over the edge from the river. Jack then noticed the smaller boat tied up to their larger vessel as if awaiting return passengers.

Stowaways?

Jack mentally followed where the footprints appeared to be heading. His heart stopped when he put it together and he reached for a gun in his sack before taking off and following them.

* * *

Ianto tossed down his book in frustration.

 _Damn_ that Jack Harkness and his divinely blue eyes and perfect American smile. And where did a man get off being so ridiculously handsome and yet boorish at the same time? It was frustrating and confusing and putting Ianto on edge.

And that kiss-

Jack's lips, the softness had surprised Ianto and the more he thought on it, the more he wanted to feel them again.

 _Stop it Jones_ , Ianto scolded himself. Thinking like that would get him nowhere.

"Wasn't even that good of a kiss anyway."

Distracted, he knocked the book he'd had resting on the vanity to the floor. He cursed his rotten luck and as he reached down to retrieve it he suddenly realized he wasn't alone. He saw it in the mirror first. Standing right behind him was an intruder dressed all in black, with a grotesque looking hook for one of his hands.

Ianto barely had time to blink, much less think of crying out before the man placed a giant salty palm over his mouth. The hook rose to his throat, waiting to strike.

"Where is the map?"

Reflexively, Ianto's eyes went to the map, which lay out on a nearby table, next to freshly lit candle. The man followed his gaze, "Good, good-and the key? Where is the key?"

Ianto refused to give that one up so easily, the object was currently hidden under his bed and that's where he intended it to stay. He met the man's eyes in the mirror and shrugged his shoulders, feigning ignorance.

"Tell me where it is, or you die."

Ianto shook his head.

A dark brow rose, then the man shrugged and the hook rose for the killing blow.

And then the cabin door flew open under a splintering kick as Jack Harkness, a gun in each hand, smashed through. Ianto had never been so happy to see anyone in his entire life.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Ianto rolled his eyes even as the man cloaked in black grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around, using him very much like a shield. The sharp point of the hook was still at his throat.

For several long moments it was a standoff. The three players stood frozen, waiting for what promised to be a violent exchange. Jack watched the candle near the map as it flickered and he whirled on a now open window where another intruder had just entered. His revolver shot off several times and Jack ducked against the flying bits of wood from the wall.

Ianto watched mesmerized as Jack calmly and evenly took two shots at the newest intruder. The warrior caught the bullets and fell over the sill. He fired one last wild shot that managed to shatter the kerosene lantern and set the room ablaze, before falling over dead.

His captor was distracted by the exchange, looking as shocked as Ianto felt. The man drew his hook away far enough and Ianto took the opportunity to grab the candle on the table, jamming the lit end right in the other man's eye. He immediately screamed and loosened his grip on Ianto completely.

Ianto bolted right into Jack's grasp as the room around them became a crackling inferno of orange and red.

"Always said you were hot."

Ianto gave him a look before they both took off down the hallway. He stopped short at the sudden realization, "Wait-"

Jack frowned, "What?"

"The map, we need the map!"

"Relax, hot stuff, I'm the map," Jack grinned at him, he tapped his temple. "It's all up here." Jack prided himself on never forgetting directions.

Ianto rolled his eyes, "Oh that's comforting."

Jack grabbed his arm again, but Ianto pulled free, "Wait!"

"What now?"

"The puzzle box is still in there! It's under my bed! That man was looking for it which means it must be-"

"No time, hot stuff. We got to go," Jack grabbed him more forcefully and pulled him down the hallway.

Ianto made a face, "Stop calling me that."

Jack ignored him, "C'mon, we need to find Owen. There's still one or two more of those guys around here somewhere. They'll probably be looking for him too."

They headed out onto the deck and in doing so just managed to miss the man they were looking for.

 _Was that smoke?_ Owen Harper shoved the door to Ianto's cabin open which caused the intruder with the hook to fall right into the burning flames engulfing the couch.

" _Bloody hell_!" Owen exclaimed. The place was a right barbecue! Determined to find the box he knew was somewhere in the room, he braved the flames, climbing on his hands and knees until he saw a glint of gold underneath the bed. _Bingo, Harper old boy_! He had the object nearly in his grasp, when grimy fingers snatched it right from under him.

"Oi," Owen exclaimed crossly. "That's mine."

The horrifying face that greeted him was horribly burnt and smelled like cooked flesh. Summoning courage he didn't know he had, Owen snatched the box back and quickly rose to his feet. The man appeared to be half blind and Owen used this handicap to his advantage. He easily dodged the shots the hooked man managed.

The wall splintered behind Owen with each attempted shot, none even close to actually hitting him.

Owen ran off in search of Ianto and Jack, but they were already on the opposite side, where the walkway was overflowing with hysterical passengers and even the horses, that had somehow managed to get free. Several people had already abandoned ship, throwing themselves off the sides of the boat for self-preservation, swimming for shore.

"We have to find Owen!" Ianto yelled over the chaos.

"Head for the bow," Jack nodded the direction. "He was in the bar last I saw him."

A gunshot sounded, splintering the wood just above Ianto's head. Jack pulled him down then pivoted and returned fire, aiming for where another dark clothed figure was shooting at them. Jack shot off two more rounds before the cloaked man hit a kerosene lantern that sent the whole wall behind them up in flames.

"You've got to be kidding me," Jack exclaimed. It's like they were aiming for the damn things. He motioned Ianto back toward the front. Suddenly jumping overboard was looking like their only choice.

Owen meanwhile, was stuck on the other side of the boat, watching as the three American hooted and hollered at all the excitement, blasting away with their guns like they were having the time of their lives.

"Blood Wild West show," Owen muttered as he pondered whether going over the side was the best option or not. He knew he needed to find the others, but right now a man that was most definitely on fire was coming at him.

"Sod it."

Jack seemed a man that could escape most anything and with the way he eyed Ianto, it seemed likely the man would try and save him before anything. Owen took his chances, and a rather deep breath, before jumping into the dark inky water below. He didn't have to wait long for the Americans to join him.

Amid the madness, Jack and Ianto somehow managed to find their unwanted business associate, Warden Hassan who was waiting his turn to jump overboard.

Jack turned," We've got to jump."

Ianto crossed his arms, but this was no time for an argument. Much like he'd done John earlier, Jack pushed him right off the edge. He followed suit and dove in right after.

The freezing water caused Ianto to gasp and he was too busy wondering why a river next to a dessert would be so _damn_ cold to be upset at Jack tossing him overboard. He followed Jack toward the further bank, while most everyone else seemed to be heading for the nearest bank.

Ianto continued to follow Jack until they finally came across shore. He was pleased to see Owen was already waiting for them, disgruntled, but unharmed. They were dripping and freezing cold, but thankfully all still alive.

Ianto felt nearly naked with how sheer his pajamas had become and he didn't miss the way Jack seemed to enjoy the view a little more than was socially acceptable.

"Get your mind out of the gutter. We've just lost everything. Our equipment, our tools-"

Jack held up his gunnysack with a victorious grin, "Not everything."

"I took many a swimming lesson in my youth," A voice called from behind them. They turned to see Warden Hassan emerging from the water, his green teeth caught in a wicked smile. "Lucky for me, eh?"

"Yeah," Jack agreed glumly. "Lucky."

"I can't believe this, we lost the map," Ianto lamented.

"Ah, but we still have this," Owen withdrew the golden box from his shirt.

"Owen that's-"

Owen cut Ianto off in a boastful smirk, " _Bloody_ brilliant, I know."

"Alright," Ianto turned to Jack, "What now?"

"We try to keep warm till morning." Jack smiled and couldn't help himself. "I'm assuming you all know how to cuddle."


	5. Chapter 5

The endless, sunbaked Sahara stretched out before them, sizzling like a frying pan, the heat coming at the four men in dizzying waves. They were moving over hard, sandy terrain littered with stones and while Jack himself was not one for enjoying the rather bumpy ride on camel-back, Owen even less so, Ianto seemed to have bonded with his ride, giving the animal affectionate pats every so often.

Acquiring the camels, or _flea bitten, mangy beasts_ as Owen called them, took quite a bite out of their cash supply. After their fortunate rescue by some traveling local merchants, they were taken to a nearby trading post right next to an oasis, where they filled up on supplies, camp equipment and food.

Jack was lamenting the loss of a particular black SUV and the certain indoor comforts he'd become accustomed to when he was greeted by the sight of Ianto Jones emerging from a nearby tent. He'd downright refused to journey forth in only a pair of pajamas and right now, dressed in a native garb made of a deep blue that made his eyes stand out even more prominently; Jack was feeling his mouth water just looking at him. It was getting harder and harder not to jump the man every time he saw him.

They'd started their trek through the green valley of the Nile, enjoying the smells of grass and clovers, but only a few hours in and their camels were shuffling over the flat, stone littered desert floor. A ground that hadn't seen rain in quite a while, if ever.

Owen was complaining again, "Filthy buggers," he said to Jack. "They smell, they bite, never seen the like."

Behind him Warden Hassan, the ever present pain, was chomping on some recently acquired dates, spitting the seeds at the ground as flies flew around his unwashed hair, looking very much like a camel himself.

"Well," Ianto countered. "I don't think they're so bad." He moved his camel up closer to Jack, "I believe Owen's just being peevish because his bourbon supply is currently at the bottom of the Nile somewhere."

" _Bloody_ waste," Owen lamented.

Jack squinted against the blinding sun, "I don't think Owen's the only one that's going to be _peevish_ by the end of this."

Ianto gave a small smile that seemed to slip sometime later, "I've been thinking-"

"About what?"

"Well, it's-" Ianto pursed his lips. "The men on the boat, the ones who attacked us, I feel like they were trying to halt us in our-quest."

"How so?"

"I noticed a rather prominent tattoo on the one who-" Ianto's hand went absently to his throat and he shook his head, "-I believe they belonged to a cult most have thought long gone. The Med-jai. They're said to be the guardians of the City of the Dead."

"And you think we'll run into more of them?"

"Difficult to say, but to my knowledge no one has seen or heard from them in over a century and we happen to run into them on a boat in the middle of the Nile on our way to the city that they're said to protect. I find that a bit troubling, don't you?"

Jack half shrugged, this whole damn thing was troubling as far as he was concerned. "If they do show up again, I'll protect you."

He didn't see the blush as Ianto turned his face away from him.

As the afternoon wore on, Jack knew spirits were slowly starting to wane. It was a tough ride, the bumpiness of the camel's back wasn't exactly comfortable and with the draining of the sun overhead, talking of any kind came to a complete halt. A little while later he spotted a small cluster of palms and as soon as he convinced himself it wasn't some sort of mirage, he directed them to set up camp for the night.

The flaming sun set in streaks of red and purple across the horizon and the furnace of the day soon turned to the freezing cold of night. They set up the four tents they'd purchased earlier and all huddled around a small fire. Owen mumbled and complained while Ianto looked ready to collapse at any second; Jack knew they had to be exhausted. He rose and clapped his hands to garner their attention.

"Alright kiddos, go get some sleep. We'll get up around one, so we can beat the sun for a while." This meant only a couple hours of rest, but the idea of traveling under the stars versus the blazing sun sounded more than a little inviting.

He got little argument and despite keeping the fire going, the desert cold was downright brutal. Still, the view was, as Ianto had put it, quite nice, serene even. The purple star studded sky of the desert night was a marvel for any man to behold.

If only the sounds were as peaceful.

The thunder-like snoring from Warden Hassan was unlike anything Jack had ever heard before. And considering how long he'd been around, that was saying something. Owen grumbled rather loudly from his own tent about the noise, tossing and turning before finally giving into exhaustion and began snoring softly himself. Jack was in a half daze of almost unconsciousness when he felt someone shift beside him.

Not that Jack had purposely misplaced Ianto's tent or anything, but the other man was huddled next to him in their shared tent and obviously freezing.

"As much as I love listening to your teeth chatter wouldn't you rather move a bit closer-"

"I'm quite fine, thank you," Ianto bit out.

The shivering and chattering continued and Jack had finally heard enough.

"Sure you are,"

Without warning Jack grabbed the huddled man and pressed him tightly to him, causing Ianto to huff into his chest. The Welshman fought back for only the slightest moment and it was half hearted at best.

"See?" Jack laughed. "Nothing a little cuddling can't solve."

Ianto frowned, but didn't pull away. Eventually his eyes slipped closed.

Jack mostly watched him sleep, though he caught a few winks of sleep here and there.

When Jack softly woke him a few hours later, Ianto looked a bit embarrassed at their predicament of twisted limbs and shared body heat. He excused himself and Jack set about rousing the others. Rousing Owen was a bit like rousing an irritated bear and Jack was disappointed to see Warden Hassan was already packing up their (or rather _his_ ) stuff. He'd just as soon leave the fat, balding man to rot in the desert, but it seemed the warden was to journey with them the whole way.

Unfortunately, the few hours of rest didn't seem enough and the rocking of the camels beneath them put Jack's three companions to sleep. Though upright, Owen's head was thrown back and his eyes closed while Warden Hassan was sawing logs with his mouth agape. Ianto seemed to fight it the longest, but even he too was starting to shift forward, eyes closed and Jack had to push him back before he fell off his saddle.

The whole ride, until the bitter cold of night turned into the heat of the returning sun, Jack swore they were being watched. By what, or rather who, he didn't know but he couldn't help recalling Ianto's warning about the Med-jai. Were they somewhere atop one of these ridges, waiting to strike?

Jack was pulled from his thoughts by the arguing of the now very awake Owen Harper and Warden Hassan, each accusing the other of snoring. Then they hit a sand dune.

"We're almost there," Jack called back to them.

"How can you tell?" Ianto asked. "It all looks the same."

"Not if you pay attention to the road signs," Jack nodded to his left at what looked at first like a formation of rocks, but slowly revealed itself to be in fact human bones.

" _Bloody hell_ ," Owen said. "Poor blighters. Who do you think they were?"

"Others seeking the City of the Dead," Warden Hassan said with a shiver not brought on by any chill in the air.

Amidst the bones was a sign written in Arabic.

"What's it say?" Owen asked jokingly. "Keep off the grass."

Ianto shook his head, "No. It's a warning. _Go back-stay away_."

"Well," Owen swallowed, "I was fairly close."

"That looks new," Jack observed. He looked at Ianto. "I don't suppose it's from your friends the Med-jai, is it?"

Ianto didn't answer, but his expression was grave. Then he turned towards the rumbling sound coming from behind them. Hoofbeats from several horses pounded against the ground. At the far end of the sand dune what looked like at least a dozen riders were coming towards them.

And leading the pack was a man in a red military coat and a wide smile. John Hart had returned, once again.

"It's those blasted Americans," Owen said. Indeed they too were part of the troupe coming to a halt right in front of them.

"Well, well, what a small desert this must be," John Hart looked like nobility atop a steed, surrounded by men, who looked more like servants, behind him. His eyes moved over Jack to Owen and finally to Ianto, "What a nice view you seem to have, eh Jack?"

"Piss off," Jack snapped.

"Captain, do you know him?" Ianto asked, looking at John uncertainly.

"He's an old pal," Jack's eyes hardened, "and nothing more."

"One of these days Jack, you'll have to stop lying to yourself. It's very unbecoming."

"Why are you here John?" Jack waved at the caravan following him. "What's this all about?"

"This?" John raised a brow. "These nice gentlemen helped me get to shore after I was so rudely pushed overboard by some Neanderthal with absolutely no manners whatsoever. In exchange for helping me I told these lovely chaps I'd help them find this city everyone's become so obsessed with." John winked and leaned closer to whisper at Jack, "Aren't they cute? I'm thinking about keeping them. What do you think; chains and leashes?"

The blond American, Henderson called, "Don't forget our bet, Harkness. Five hundred to whoever reaches the city first."

Jack nodded, but his attention was elsewhere. He really wanted to get away from John and his new group of goons as soon as possible. "Get ready," He said to Ianto.

"Ready for what?"

"We're going to be shown the way."

And just as the sun fell in the right position, the fabled ruins of Hamanaptra beckoned in the distance. Jack took off, causing the rest of his team to follow. He grinned an especially wide grin, for Jack Harkness knew that in the climate of the desert, while graceful, even the most magnificent Arabian steed was no match for a camel. No matter how mangy.

* * *

Within the ruins of the temple complex of Hamanaptra, the rival expeditions set up neighboring camps of tents. Dozens of stray camels roamed the area, buzzing with flies and overloaded with bags thrown over their humps. Their presence put a swallow of worry in Jack's stomach. Ianto noticed his stricken expression and watched the animals roam aimlessly about.

"Where do you think those poor creatures came from?"

Jack's sky blue eyes looked back at him, "They're waiting for their masters to return." He swallowed, "Unfortunately, I think the sand and vultures took care of them first."

Ianto's eyes shadowed and Jack was half convinced the man was going to ask to adopt the smelly creatures.

John, his expedition full of Americans and laborers, sat back and watched as the diggers and workers he'd acquired set up work tables and dug holes with their picks and rakes to raise their massive tents and other very advanced looking equipment. His group had clearly come prepared. The Americans weren't doing any of the dredge work and John himself sat in a shaded area looking princely and smug. He called out to Jack, "Don't forget _Jackie_ , if you get bit by any snakes you have to crisscross an x with your knife to suck the venom out."

Burns, the American with the glasses squinted at him, "What if you can't reach the wound yourself?"

"Yeah," Owen countered, shuffling sand from his trousers as he rose from putting up his now rather pathetic looking tent, "What if it's on your arse?"

"Oh don't worry, I'll help you with that personally," John winked and Owen turned an unsightly shade of green before disappearing further up the camp.

The rival group was keeping their distance, and thankfully, so was John. It was obvious the American's didn't view Jack's small troupe as any kind of competition, which was just fine with Jack. The former Egyptologist, Dr. Chamberlin had been overheard saying they were a group led by a convict, a librarian, a walking time-bomb and washed up camel dung. What could they possibly know?

The comment didn't bother Ianto, who saw the dismissal as a possible point of advantage. It would ward off any kind of possible sabotage or interference if the Americans saw them as a joke and not a threat. And unlike them and all their boast-filled words, Ianto actually knew where to start digging.

And he didn't waste a moment.

* * *

The upper portion of a time withered statue of Anubis poked through the sands, revealing what appeared to be a cavern, or rather a carved out chamber in the darkness below.

From his knees, Ianto examined the crevice with three faces, including Jack Harkness and Owen Harper, looming down on him.

"This is the entrance." Ianto was sure of it.

"Ianto, that's a hole in the ground," Jack said, not at all hiding the fact he'd just been checking out Ianto's ass. "It's not man made. I've never spent a day in an archaeologist's classroom (bedroom maybe) and even I know that."

"You're right. It's not man-made, but men still used it," Ianto replied, standing and brushing sand away from a shining surface that seemed to catch the sun at the motion. The beam went straight into Owen's eyes.

" _Bloody Hell_ Jones, watch it."

Affixed to the rocky edge on the left side of the crevice just wide enough to accommodate a man, was a large round reflective surface, embossed on each of its sides were hieroglyphics carved out of bronze.

"A mirror," Jack said, eyes tightening.

Ianto explained, "This was a shrine and years ago this crevice was no doubt covered with either sand or wood. Pharaohs always took advantage of natural rock formations, caves and the like, but they used solid rock for their burial vaults. I believe below us is a city of caverns, but more than that, I believe there are chambers cut from solid rock."

"I certainly hope that means treasure and not just rotting bones."

Ianto ignored Owen and instructed them to find more mirrors hidden along the lip of the crevice and within an hour half a dozen or so of the ancient mirrors were uncovered on either side.

"What are they for?" Jack asked, brushing himself off.

"Think of it as an ancient Egyptian lighting system," Ianto moved around the crevice, positing the mirrors to catch the sunlight. It was mostly a guess if they were placed right or not, "If I'm correct, you should be able to see for yourselves."

"Alright," Jack's lips smacked, but he hesitated at the prospect of the dark hole before them. "I'm guessing we have to go down there."

"Correct you are, sir."

Jack began to tie a rope around a nearby pillar and threw the remainder of the heavy rope into the darkness below. He doused the end of an unlit torch in kerosene, "I'll signal you when it's safe," he said. "I don't want to make too much noise and alert the other team."

Before he forgot, Jack reached into his pack and tossed Ianto a small brown leather pouch, "Here, something I err-borrowed from one of our American friends, when I went to wish them luck." He grinned and grabbing tight on the rope, jumped into the crevice, and began rappelling down.

As he unrolled the pouch, Ianto smiled softly. It was filled with archaeologist's tools of all shapes and sizes.

A few minutes later, the orange waving signal of a lit torch below told them it was safe. After an endless round of _after yous_ between Owen and Warden Hassan, the larger man begrudgingly went first.

"I suppose if it can support his weight, we should be fine," Owen smiled at Ianto, going down next.

Ianto went down last, feeling Jack's hand on his back as he finished his descent. He tried to ignore the warmth of Jack's touch and why it made his heart beat just a tiny bit faster and instead focused his attention on studying the chamber they were in. Straight smooth walls were decorated with geometric designs, stunning figures of gods and goddesses carved in the rock. It was beautiful.

"Where's the treasure?" Warden Hassan demanded, breaking the feeling of wonder.

"Help yourself to my share of the spider webs," Jack said, brushing some away. He lit the second torch and handed it to Owen, who crinkled his nose.

"What is that awful smell?" Owen's voice wavered in disgust. "It smells like bloody death."

Warden Hassan twitched his nose, leaning near Owen, he sniffed, "I don't smell anything."

At his intrusion, Owen pulled away, before he passed out from the sweat soaked man's stench. "Never mind, I seem to have found the source."

Warden Hassan sneered and backed away.

Ianto took Jack by the arm and pointed, "Shine that torch over there." With the aid of the light, he found just what he needed, a metal disk mounted to the stone wall. Ianto brushed away the cobwebs and repositioned the disc on its pedestal, aiming it at the ray of light that lingered down from above. The ray hit the disk and bounced off every one of the outside mirrors, illuminating the entire underground chamber.

Jack whistled, "Neat trick."

"Oh my god," Ianto breathed, taking it all in. His hand raised as he followed the hieroglyphs now illuminated enough for him to translate, "It's a _Sah-Netjer_."

"Exactly what I was going to say," Owen said dryly.

" _Sah Netjer_? Which is what?" Jack asked.

"A preparation room," Ianto nodded toward an altar-like pedestal in the middle of the room. "For entering the afterlife."

" _Bloody hell_ ," Owen said. "It's a _bloody_ mummy factory!"

"Mummies?" Jack said. That was a new one. "Certainly never run into one of those before."

"Now we need to find the statue of Anubis-" Ianto looked to Jack who still had the torch. "Would you mind-" He pointed the direction and Jack shone the torch, revealing a hidden passageway.

Jack smirked, "Shall we?"

The tunnel was narrow with a low ceiling and infested with cobwebs. Crouching rather uncomfortably, they crawled their way through, heading where the statute should be. A chittering, scurrying sound coming from the walls froze them in their tracks.

"Sounds like bugs," Owen offered weakly from behind Ianto.

"Shall we hurry up then?" Warden Hassan asked from the rear.

Jack brandished his Webley, musing to himself that this was all starting to remind him of some old horror flick. Being in Torchwood, he'd seen some strange things and he knew when to be ready.

Pressing forward, they moved deeper and deeper until they emerged into a cavern. The statue of Anubis, through time or possibly an earthquake or two, had partially dropped. Still it was the part they needed, the bottom half of the giant idol.

A sound of movement-was it the bugs or something more? Ianto wasn't sure. Whatever it was it seemed to come from the other side of the statue.

Jack handed Ianto the torch and whispered, "Stay close," he withdrew his other gun.

The sound of movement increased. Whoever, _whatever_ it was, it was almost upon them. Jack lunged around the base of the statue-and found three sweaty figures lunging towards him. The Americans all armed with their own revolvers. They thrust their revolvers at Jack and he returned the gesture.

"Stop!" Ianto cried.

The two parties froze in mid action, both poised and ready to shoot the other. Behind the Americans was the figure of John Hart, Dr. Chamberlin and a group of wide eyed native diggers.

"Jesus, Harkness you scared the hell out of us," Henderson said, backing off.

Jack took a step back, lowering his weapons. The Americans followed the gesture, lowering, but not holstering their weapons.

"Hey," Burns bespectacled eyes narrowed at the leather pouch, "That's mine." He took a step forward and met the end of Jack's Webley.

"I think not," Jack said. "But if you'd like to borrow a bullet, just ask."

"On second look, I think my pouch was a bit bigger than that," Burns smiled nervously, backing away. "My mistake."

John moved up to Jack, in-between the two camps and said calmly, "Gentlemen, gentlemen, I'm sure we can figure something out. We are civilized men here, after all."

Ianto also moved up to Jack, almost defensively, "Yes, I believe we can, Mr-?"

John grinned, "John Hart, but you can call me whatever you like, eye candy."

Ianto's face tightened, "Well _Mr. Hart_. I'm afraid my companions and I have considerable work to do. Now if you would _kindly_ get out of our way."

"Cheeky," John noted. "I like that."

Dr. Chamberlin, face tight with controlled anger, moved up between Henderson and Daniels, saying," Young man, this is _our_ dig site. I'm afraid I must ask _you_ to kindly vacate these premises."

Jack glared at him, arms folded, "And if we refuse?"

His words brought about exchanged glances and instead of calming anyone, the guns raised again, bringing them back to square one. The tension mounted and violence was just waiting to erupt at any second.

"Well, this is going well," John said with a grin, his gun drawn, but not pointed at either party.

Daniels, who didn't speak much, directed a rather nasty glare at Jack, "This is our statue- _pal._ "

"Funny," Jack smiled, but it wasn't a nice smile. "I don't see your name carved on it anywhere- _chum_."

Ianto watched helplessly as the two men bantered back and forth. All three Americans looked ready to shoot at any given moment and while a good shot, one against an entire group wasn't great odds in Jack's favor. Wanting to stop it, but not knowing how, his eyes dropped, where Ianto noticed for the first time, a wide crack in the floor. He shifted his foot and toed some pebbles into the crack-where they hit bottom below.

His eyes widened as the realization hit him-

There was a second chamber below them!

"Alright gentlemen," Ianto tried his most charming tone, accent as distinguished as possible, "I think we can all agree this is a rather large site and your group is so much _bigger_ than ours. We'll concede this statue to you. After all, there's plenty here to go around."

Tensions only slightly eased and Dr. Chamberlin still seemed especially suspicious. Ianto touched Jack's arm gently, but pointedly, "There are other places to dig."

Jack gave the slightest hint of a nod, but didn't lower his gun until they were well out of the chamber, never turning his back on the Americans and especially John. Ianto, Owen and Warden Hassan followed his lead and the chamber filled with mocking laughter at their exit. They were already down the passageway, but Jack was ready to fly back in guns blazing, when Ianto grabbed his arm and lifted a finger to his lips in a hush gesture. "Listen."

Dr. Chamberlin's voice echoed, "The next step is for me to translate these hieroglyphs-which should lead us to the location of Sati's treasure."

Ianto smiled and ushered them back toward the preparation chamber still illuminated by the sun and the mirrors, "Apparently the good doctor is unaware of the secret compartment," he told the group. "He's looking for Set's treasure not the _Book of Amun Ra_."

"That's what we should be seeking," Warden Hassan snapped. "Not some blasted book."

"There has to be a chamber below here," Ianto continued. "We just have to find a way down there."

They headed back into the labyrinth and within minutes they found a tunnel heading downward. Another journey of crouching and cobwebs and they arrived in another chamber almost identical to the preparation chamber, only smaller and with a much lower ceiling, almost right above their heads.

"They had more than one of these things?" Jack asked in disgust.

"Three actually," Ianto replied. He moved about the chamber, finding the exact location he assumed would be correct, "I believe we should be about right under the statue."

Owen glanced at the giant crack in the ceiling with a grin, "And when those damn dirty Yanks go to sleep-oh, sorry Harkness."

Jack just smiled mildly.

Owen continued, "We dig our way back up and steal the book from right under their Yankee noses."

Jack flashed his torch, fanning the walls around them in orange and red, "And you're sure you can find the secret compartment?" he asked Ianto.

"Yes. That is assuming Dr. Chamberlin doesn't find it first."

"Should we start digging now?" Owen asked, not quite enjoying the idea of the actual physical labor to be involved.

Jack nodded, "They'll be expecting us to be digging."

"I have to say though, the smell has greatly improved in here, don't you think?" Owen said as Jack handed him a chisel from his pack. Glancing around he added, "Hey, where's our friend gone off to?"

Warden Hassan was gone and Jack wasn't sure whether he should be worried or not. He shrugged it off and they set about their digging.


	6. Chapter 6

Warden Gad Hassan was not the type of person to follow the initiative of other men lightly. He decided after hearing Jones' true intent, he'd had quite enough of the pushy librarian, the trigger happy deserter and their drunken friend. Once he'd found their true objective wasn't to find the pharaoh's treasure, but rather a blasted book, Hassan quickly lost interest in further following the disillusioned trio. Why settle for one book of gold when he could find mountains of treasure on his own?

The Jones fellow had been right about one thing though; there was plenty of room and plunder to go around.

And so it was that Gad Hassan slipped away and went crawling down a tunnel on his own, using the torch he had swiped from the Harper chap to light his way and swat at yet more cobwebs. His girth made the passage difficult, but not impossible. Impossible wasn't a word a man who dealt with the worst criminals and thieves in Cairo on a daily basis ever used.

Within minutes the man had made an eye boggling discovery that had him gaping much like a fish. Wheeling about, he took it all in, using the torch to light the fabulous chamber he had found all on his own. Who needed a blasted bookworm filled with useless ideas about knowledge when he could find this-a wall filled with colorful hieroglyphics depicting a story, but more importantly-embedded with jewels.

Dozens of purple stones stood out in the stone before him. Jones probably would have warned him against taking them, saying they weren't of any real value, but Hassan knew they had to be made of amethyst. He pulled out his knife and began plopping them off one by one and sticking them in his dingy, old leather satchel. It was an awkwardly, slow process as he had to do it one handed, while still holding the torch in the other.

He repeated the process again and again, grinning to himself like a fool. Singing songs in his head of wine, women and all the riches he could ever ask for. He didn't notice one stone missing the pouch and plopping to the sand dusted stone floor below. The scarab-shaped jewel began to glow, to pulse and transform. Still Hassan didn't notice. His eyes were focused elsewhere and he didn't see the amethyst splitting open and a living scarab beetle scurrying out. The hideous bug moved with a purpose, burrowing right inside the man's leather sandal to the man's heel, where it bit him.

Hassan cried out as the sensation, the feeling that something hot and burning with gnashing, hungry teeth, was moving inside his leg. He began to scream in both agony and fear, dropping both the knife and the torch as he flailed about, watching and feeling the intruder scramble further up his body. He clawed and scratched at it, but his attempts were futile as all he could do was scream. The squirming object moved slowly up his legs and into his belly, continuing further up, with no intent on stopping. Panicked and without thinking, Warden Hassan fled from the room looking like a man possessed.

* * *

The warden's screams weren't heard by the American expedition, who were still gathered around the base of the statue of Anubis. Dr. Chamberlin stood staring at the base, hand on his chin. Not a man of any swift action, he could feel the volatility of his partners, impatiently waiting to find some _damn_ treasure already.

John Hart stood off and away, more interested in keeping the sand off his boots than helping with any fooled brained notions of some supposed treasure. He really wasn't dressed for such work.

Henderson crossed his arms, "Is there something in the base of this thing or not?"

Using a small brush, Chamberlin gently moved away sand from the seams he'd discovered, seams that could very well indicate a secret compartment. "The Hieroglyphs indicate a secret compartment at the feet of Anubis."

"Then stand aside," Henderson snapped, jamming the tip of a crowbar into one of the seams.

"You really think that's a good idea?" John asked.

"No." Chamberlin warned Henderson, "He's right, you mustn't do that. There's a warning written on the walls against what you're trying to do right now."

Henderson thought about it, he withdrew the crowbar, "What do you suggest?"

Chamberlin nodded toward the half dozen native diggers standing just behind them, "I think perhaps we should let them have this honor." Stepping forward he loudly warned the diggers, in their own tongue, a threat of a curse on themselves and their families should they refuse to do the service they were brought for. Put simply, they were told to dig.

Three of the natives stepped forward, heads lowered and crowbars in hand, they lumbered reluctantly toward the statue. Chamberlin instructed them on where they should apply their crowbars. They tugged and tugged with the crowbars putting their backs into it, all the while Chamberlin shouting at them to keep at it. Finally, the panel seemed to have loosened a good half inch-

-and an intense stream of liquid sprayed from all around the seams, drenching the three diggers completely. They screamed in horror and anguish and upon contact, the diggers skin melted like candle wax. Their corpses were half skeletal before they even had time to fall on the stone floor.

The remaining diggers had long since run off, before seeing the fate of their fellow men, Chamberlin and the Americans jumped far enough away that none of it touched them. They simply gazed in horrified amazement at what had once been three men, but were now nothing but a steaming pile of bones.

"Well boys," John said. "Unless anyone else here wants a hot facial, I'd suggest we move on."

No one disagreed.

* * *

Jack and Owen chipped away at the ceiling of the chamber with their chisels; Ianto was halfheartedly helping, but was also intent on sharing his knowledge and distracting himself from the task at hand. Every time he picked up the chisel, he found another story or fact he needed to tell. Right now he was sharing the ancient Egyptian art of mummification.

Jack was pretty sure Ianto had never been this bad at multitasking.

"The ancient Egyptians believed in the transmigration of souls," Ianto was saying, waving Jack's torch, because Jack wanted him to be of some use in their digging. "They believed the soul needed a place to return to, after it finished its journey. A soul could take as long as they needed to accomplish this, a thousand years even, and they needed to keep their bodies intact for when the soul finally returned, looking to re-enter their body.

Jack kept chiseling, "And wrapping them up in bandages does that, huh?"

"That's only part of it, actually. Certain organs had to be preserved as well. The intestines, for instance were removed through an incision in the side, then cleaned and stored in jewel encrusted jars. The same went for the kidneys, liver and lungs."

Owen made a noise of disgust, "And what about the brain?"

"Oh, did I forget that part?" Ianto smiled. "For the brain, they stuck a sharp, red hot poker up your nose, cut your brain into small pieces, and then ripped it all out through your nostrils."

"Sorry I asked," Owen shivered and Jack didn't blame him. "That's got to smart."

Ianto continued to smile, "It doesn't smart at all, you're already dead."

"That process could _bloody_ _wake_ the dead."

Ianto rolled his eyes, "Any progress?"

As if to answer his question, a big chunk of the roof fell right out, right between Jack and Owen were a huge slab of stone shattered into a hundred pieces and both Jack and Owen leaped out of its path before it could crush them.

Through the now giant hole in the ceiling, a massive granite object-alongside a shower of rubble and dirt-came crashing down to the floor with a slam so hard it rocked the entire chamber. Pebbles turned to dust from the impact, filling the air like fog.

Coughing and suddenly blinded, the three men moved tentatively toward the object. Jack grabbed the torch Ianto had dropped on the floor.

"Now _that_ could definitely wake the dead," Owen said.

"What the hell is it?" Jack asked as he studied the granite casement. "A coffin?"

"A sarcophagus," Ianto answered as the dust began to clear. "Buried in the shadow of Anubis, at the feet of the god. Whoever this was he was either of great importance, or he did something-bad."

"Bad?" Owen snickered. "Did he steal from the wrong cookie-jar or something?"

"Help me dust this off," Ianto said and soon with the three of them working with old rags to remove the dirt, a single symbol revealed itself on the lid of the sarcophagus.

Ianto stared at the symbol with a stricken look and Jack asked, "Was he a king or just the gardener, or what?"

Ianto seemed confused and a little worried, finally he answered, "It says-he who shall not be named."

"Charming," Owen quipped, "It is at all possible that _he who must not be named_ here is buried with some kind of treasure?"

Ianto nodded, "It's possible-

"But this looks like it needs a key," Jack said, motioning to what appeared to be some kind of embedded locking mechanism with eight indents in it.

Ianto's eyes widened and he snapped his fingers, "Of course-the key! That's what those men on the boat were looking for. The one with the hook, he asked me for the key."

"Right," Owen said, brightening, "the puzzle box. The one I recovered if you both recall."

"Yes Owen, you're works of valor shan't be forgotten." Ianto plucked the gold object from Jack's pack and quickly unfolded it until its jagged edges blossomed forth like a flower. He grinned when he saw the pattern was exactly the same as the lock on the sarcophagus.

Several long moments of breathless anticipation later, Jack and Owen on either side of him, Ianto approached the granite encasement, key poised and ready for insertion.

The moment was ruined by an unearthly agonized scream coming at them from the labyrinth, the cries of someone in either pain or trouble-possible both.

Quickly, Ianto folded the box back to its original state and tossed it to Owen who placed it back in the pack in one swift motion. Jack ushered them both on to find the source of whomever it was that clearly needed their help.

They entered an area where the tunnel widened into a small cavern and the horrible screams seemed to be moving toward them. Then they saw him, Warden Hassan.

The fat man emerged from a passageway, looking like he was doing some kind of crazed dance, literally clawing at his head and tearing clumps of hair from his head.

"Blood hell is he doing?" Owen gaped in horror.

The warden, insane with pain continued his screaming, completely ignoring-or more likely-never seeing them in the first place. Like a bull charging, Hassan ran headlong across the cavern-

-and slammed his head into the rock. He stood for a moment and Ianto gasped as he fell, flopping on his back. His eyes were wide and unseeing, unfocused at the rocky ceiling above. The man was dead.

"Jesus," Jack said.

"Wonder what got into him?" Owen said.

Ianto placed a hand over his mouth and turned away with a sob. Jack and Owen exchanged troubled glances.

None of them noticed the blood soaked beetle slither out of the warden's ear and scurry off.

* * *

Night's star studded sapphire sky had descended upon the City of the Dead, painting the partial pillars and crumbling walls an ivory white. The two camps set inside its walls, though closely set, were staying as far away from each other as possible. John and his crew of Americans made Jack's now even smaller group look pitifully sad, with only four tents and a small fire; they looked like beggars besides the other, much larger camp.

Ianto and Owen crowded around the small crackling fire. Owen could see the haunted look still in the other man's eyes as Ianto asked softly, "What do you suppose killed that poor man?"

"Did you see the way he ate?" Owen said dryly.

Jack emerged from behind a pillar. He'd been talking to the Americans, but was truthfully looking for John. The other man seemed to have disappeared and no one recalled having seen him in awhile, a truly unsettling thought.

Ianto looked up at his arrival with a tight smile, "Have you made peace with our American friends, then?"

Jack rubbed at the back of his neck with a sigh, "Not exactly. Seems they had a little misadventure of their own today, three of their people were killed."

Ianto's eyes widened, "How?"

"Salt acid," Jack said, "Pressurized salt acid. Some sort of ancient booby-trap, apparently."

"Perhaps we're lucky we were interrupted today. We'll have to take precautions when we go back to open the sarcophagus tomorrow," Ianto said.

Owen glanced around uneasily, "Perhaps this place truly is cursed."

As if in response to his words, a gust of wind swept through the camp, sounding like a ghoulish groan and nearly blowing out their fire. Jack swallowed and Owen's eyes boggled in near terror.

Ianto laughed at them both, "You two-you're not honestly afraid, are you?"

Jack leaned back against the rocks, arms folded. "Don't believe in curses, huh?"

"Of course not," Ianto said. "I believe if I can see it and I can touch it, then it's real. That's what I believe."

"What do you believe in, Harkness?" Owen asked, "Star and stripes and-cherry pie?"

"Apple, actually," Jack withdrew his elephant gun from his gunnysack and with a metallic sound that ran across the sands, cocked it, "I'm what you'd call a bit of an old boy scout, Owen. I believe in being prepared."

"As for me," Owen said. "I'm a believer in the idea of self-gratification." He dropped down to pick up Hassan Gad's satchel, seeing as the man had no further use for it. He dug through the bag looking for any possible plunder the man might have acquired. Something stung his hand and he hissed.

"Owen?" Ianto sat forward, concerned. "What is it?"

Owen's hiss of pain turned to delight when he realized what had bit his finger, the broken top of a glass liquor bottle. "I say." He withdrew the bottle at its broken spout and immediately drank from it. His lips smacked and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "He may have been a frighteningly stinky fellow-but he had good taste." Owen emptied the rest of the pouch but found nothing but sand.

Then a distant rumbling sounded, faint at first, so faint Jack swore he was hearing things. Ianto and Owen watched as Jack knelt and placed an ear to the ground. He listened and all at once the rumbling was joined by the pounding of hoof beats and gunfire.

The rain of bullets was falling on the American camp and it could be seen as well as heard, orange explosions of rifles exploded into the night like fireworks.

Jack shoved his elephant gun in Ianto arms, noticing how uneasily the other man took it. He un-holstered one of his guns and told the two men at the fire to _stay put._ He took off running through the ruins and didn't realize Ianto had taken off after him.

"Didn't the man tell us to stay put?" Owen called after Ianto. Rolling his eyes and taking another swig from the bottle-keeping it clutched in his grip-Owen reluctantly followed as well.

Keeping low, Jack made his way toward the American camp. Through the ocean of tents galloped several Med-jai riders, rifles blazing as they picked off the native diggers who tried to flee one by one. The horsemen charged through the bonfire, purposefully spreading the flames to the tents set around it. The Americans stood their ground against the intruders, but they were outgunned and with the mountains of dust flying in the air, it was hard to see much at all.

Jack was at the outskirts; ducking in and out of the ruins when he ran into the man he'd been looking for earlier. "Where the hell have you been?" Jack hissed at John Hart.

"Good to know you still care," John said dryly. He frowned as he surveyed the damage, "Look at what theses barbarians are doing to my lovely little camp."

"Maybe you should be helping them," Jack suggested when he saw, just behind their hiding spot, what looked like the leader of the riders. Galloping through the camp, but surprisingly small on the giant steed was a-woman? That didn't seem right. Not only was it a woman, but she looked distinctly-non Arab. More-

- _Asian?_

Jack's blood ran cold.

"Well if that doesn't just beat them all," John said with a smirk. "Why didn't you tell me you were hiding a warrior princess?"

Jack's head shook, "I wasn't aware I was."

Toshiko Sato, clothed in black robes and brandishing a wicked looking blade was a fierce form atop her horse. She watched the scene with a calm and eerie demeanor Jack had never seen on the Japanese woman's face before. It might have been awing, if it weren't so damn terrifying.

"Here," Jack shoved his gunnysack at John. "Hold on to this."

Jack waited for the right moment. He didn't want to hurt Tosh, but truthfully, it looked like he might need to worry more about her hurting him. Webley clutched in his hand, he scurried up the rocks just as she was riding by-

"You know you should probably-"

-and Jack leaped out, tackling her to the ground, raising a cloud of dust and sand.

John sighed, "-talk to her."

They rolled on the ground and Jack made sure to stay on top of the smaller woman, his knees on either side of her slim waist, hand grabbing the scimitar so she couldn't strike him. "Tosh," he tried, "Tosh it's-" clearly he'd underestimated Tosh's strength as the woman ripped a yell and head-butted him so hard, he swore his nose had shattered. Despite the pain, Jack didn't let go until another rider came at him, swiping his sword and almost taking Jack's head off. Jack reared back far enough that Tosh was able to fly out from underneath him, sending Jack falling back on his ass. The woman quickly remounted her horse and Jack was stopped from following her by another rider coming behind him. Jack raised his Webley, but it was the familiar sound of his elephant gun going off that threw the rider from his saddle.

Ianto Jones, who was sexy all on his own, had definitely ramped up his appeal with Jack's giant gun his in hands. He looked shocked at the blast he'd caused and Jack was both worried and hopeful that perhaps some of his spirit had returned. Jack could also see Owen had joined in as well. He couldn't help the swell of pride at the sight. His team-even here with memories and lives that weren't really theirs-he could still count on them.

Then his joy fell at the thought of Tosh. His dear, sweet little Tosh.

Owen had rounded up a group of diggers all armed with pistols. Still armed with his bottle and a pistol he'd pulled out as well, he ordered the men to fire at a charging group of Med-jai horsemen, leaving four empty saddles. "I say, _bloody_ good show," Owen said. More warriors soon joined in though and he was forced into hand to hand combat against the men clothed in black.

Jack sprinted over to help Owen, but was stopped by the familiar pounding of hooves behind him. He whirled around and was met with a scimitar gleaming as it unarmed one gun from his hand then quickly the other. The dark beautiful eyes of Toshiko Sato stared down at him menacingly.

"Jack! Catch!" John yelled at him, tossing him a lit stick of dynamite.

Jack caught it, holding the hissing stick high as he said, looking and feeling a little crazed, "We may not be able to stop you, but I'll settle for a draw."

Their eyes met and Jack hoped against all hope that there was an inkling in Tosh's mind of who Jack was. The flame continued to sizzle down the fuse and the woman watched it warily. She finally raised her scimitar but as a gesture, not to strike.

"Leave this place," Tosh commanded. "Leave this place or die."

With that, she reared her steed back and galloped off, crying to the remaining Med-jai who raced after her, leaving only destruction behind. Jack was tempted to run after her too, but John's sudden appearance and hand on his shoulder stopped him. "You can't."

"Can't what?" Jack hissed at him. "That's Tosh John, I can't just-"

"I know, but you have to. And besides, I'm pretty sure she can take better care of herself than the other two right now, don't you think?"

Jack brushed John's hand off, "What do you care, anyway?" He'd tried to kill his team once already. "Why should I even trust you?"

"I did just save your life," John pointed out.

"Is one of you going to put that out?" The American, Henderson asked at the still lit stick of dynamite. "I think you've made your point."

"Oh right," Jack said, plucking the fuse from the stick so it became useless, he tossed it into the sand, where it snuffed out. "Sorry."

Ianto, covered in sand and looking a little shell shocked, staggered up to him. Jack immediately embraced the man who looked ready to break down and whispered into his ear, "Are you alright?"

Ianto nodded, but his body quivered, "I think so."

Burns, disheveled, but no worse for wear, held up his companion Daniels, who clenched through his teeth, "See? This proves old Seti's treasure is here. Why else would these savages try to drive us off?"

Jack's eyes searched the surrounding ridges of the valley, hoping he'd see Tosh or that the woman would come back and they could all laugh about the misunderstanding and Jack could know she was safe. He settled for pulling Ianto closer, not caring about the odd looks sent his way. Then he pondered Daniels' words. "These are desert people; they value water, not gold."

"Well this sure as hell ain't no oasis," Burns said.

Jack nodded, "I know. That's what worries me."

Henderson ran a clumsy hand through his blond hair, "Listen-thanks for pitching in."

"You'd do the same," Jack said, with no real conviction. He didn't believe for one moment, if in the same predicament, the Americans would have helped them.

"I think," Henderson continued. "I think we shouldn't go waving weapons at each other. We can be rivals without being enemies."

"Agreed."

Burns added, "Perhaps at night, we could join forces? You could camp with us."

Jack looked to Ianto who nodded, "Yeah that could work. Tomorrow we'll make the move."

"We'll be one big, happy family," John said.

Ianto was glancing at the overturned camp, "Where's Owen? Has anyone seen him?"

Confused looks and head shakes were his answer.

"We need to find him," Ianto said, worry creasing his brow.

Henderson offered his hand and Jack took it. "Seriously, thanks for the help."

Ianto moved quickly through the ruins and John seemed to want to say something, but Jack ignored him and continued after the Welshman. They found their camp, where the fire was dwindling and Owen's body was sprawled on the desert ground, eyes blank and unmoving.

"They've killed him!" Ianto cried. "Owen's dead!"

Having died more times than he truthfully remembered, Jack knew the difference between dead and shit faced drunk. Apparently, Owen was of the later as he finally blinked at Ianto's cry and grinned at them both, drunkenly offering the bottle he still possessed, before passing out. Jack and Ianto dragged his limp body to his tent and made their way back to the fire. Half a bottle was left and Jack figured the liquor could at least warm them, as the temperature had dropped bitterly cold again. Unfortunately, Ianto proved himself an even bigger lush than Owen.

Somehow the two men had ended up in a fake wrestling match with Jack on top and Ianto (somehow now wearing Jack's coat) had finally admitted defeat. They both sat up and rather drunkenly began to cuddle. Jack offered Ianto another drink from the chipped topped bottle.

"Unlike my friend, sir," Ianto proclaimed grandly, "I know when to say no."

He took another swig and Jack grinned, " _Clearly_."

"I'm sure you're wondering what a place like this is doing in a guy like me."

"Something like that."

"I-" Ianto seemed to be grasping for words. He wanted to tell of his family's history in Egypt and that he was continuing his father's work, but everything seemed too muddled to come out properly.

"Why does it matter?" Ianto spouted drunkenly, "I may not be an explorer or an adventurer like you, Mr. Harkness, but I'm exceedingly proud of what I am."

"And what, pray tell, is that?"

Ianto lifted his chin, "I sir, am a- _librarian_."

Jack snorted a laugh, _close enough_. "You're also very, very drunk."

Ianto snuggled next to him, "How dare you suggest such a thing." He got closer until Jack swore his brain was going to melt from the heat between them. "Mr. Harkness?"

"I told you to call me Jack."

Ianto was nearly cross-eyed as he observed him, "Why should I?"

"Because it's my name."

"Alright, _Jack_ then," Ianto relented coyly. He then said the words Jack had been dying to hear for days, "I think I'd very much like to kiss you, Jack Harkness.."

And then, right before their lips could meet, right as Jack's blood was boiling with want to feel the other man's mouth on his, right before Jack could lose what little self-control he had left, Ianto Jones passed out, falling right into Jack's lap.

Despite himself, the older man couldn't help an overwhelming feeling of fondness. He brushed the man's cheek and because the alcohol was still running through him, keeping him warm, Jack held the man until the morning dawned above them.


	7. Chapter 7

With the dawning of a new day, the two expeditions returned to their respective sites underground. Instead of being too scared to continue, the Americans took the previous night's raid as further proof that there was something very valuable awaiting them.

Returning to the Anubis statue, three more diggers with them, the Americans decided to try again. The trap had already deployed, exhausting the supply of acid and it was decided to be safe to try again. The enforcing of the three diggers cooperation however, had to be done at gunpoint.

No spray of death emerged on the second prying of the compartment and with one swift lift from their crowbars; the heavy stone slab fell to the floor. Dr. Chamberlin stepped forward and bid them, in their native tongue to retrieve the contents, once again threatening a curse upon their families for not complying. The frightened diggers, with guns cocked and loaded behind them, nervously brought forth the wooden chest adorned with colorful hieroglyphics and ornate detailing over its surface. As they deposited the item on the floor, Dr. Chamberlin observed its symbols, interpreting them as quickly as he could. He read the inscriptions and his heart filled with dread.

"Well?" John asked, mildly interested, "What is it?"

Dr. Chamberlin's eyes remained affixed on the chest as he spoke, "There's a curse on this chest-a most monstrous curse."

"Curse my ass," Henderson growled dismissively. "Does it say anything about the Pharaoh's treasure?"

Dr. Chamberlin glared at him, "This is not to be taken lightly. In these hallowed grounds, that which was set forth in ancient times is as strong today, as it was then."

Henderson relented, "Yeah, yeah, okay, what's it say anyway?"

Dr. Chamberlin slowly and carefully read the inscription, "Death will come on swift wings to whoever opens this chest."

"Cheery," John said.

A ghostly gust of wind came howling through the chamber, and the torches in Henderson and Daniels hands flickered. The three diggers, guns be damned, finally took that moment to escape, fleeing in terror and disappearing into the labyrinth, babbling in their native tongues.

"Superstitious nonsense," Daniels mumbled.

Dr. Chamberlin continued, "It says there is one-an undead creature who, if brought back to life, is bound by sacred law to consummate this curse."

Henderson laughed, "Yeah, well, let's just make sure we don't bring anybody back from the dead then, huh?"

Dr. Chamberlin had a tone of desperation now, "He will kill all who open this chest-and assimilate their organs and fluids."

"So he'll eat them?" John asked with a slight look of disgust. "That's one hell of a diet."

"By eating the flesh of the defilers, he will regenerate. And no longer will he be undead, but rather a plague upon the earth," Dr. Chamberlin finished.

Wind rustled down the tunnel, once again moving their torches.

Henderson shrugged, "Ah hell, let's open it anyways. I didn't come all this way to end up empty handed." He turned to Dr. Chamberlin, "Do you reckon it's booby trapped too?"

Dr. Chamberlin shook his head, "That would be a defilement of the object's sacredness, however my suggestion would be not to-"

But it was too late. Henderson popped the lid off and an explosion of dust filled the air. Henderson coughed, but was pleased to see his skin was still intact. Dr. Chamberlin approached the box and reached inside to lift out a large burlap bag. Trembling with anticipation, he removed the bag and withdrew a brass hinged book, made from pure obsidian and exquisitely covered in hieroglyphics.

Dr. Chamberlin stared in awe, "I have heard stories of this book, but I never truly believed it existed. This, good gentlemen, is a most priceless treasure."

"I wouldn't trade ya a brass spittoon for that thing!" Henderson kicked the chest in anger. In doing so he opened the bottom compartment, which held four jewel-encrusted jars.

Burns eyes lit behind his glasses, "Jewels! Now we're getting somewhere."

"You boys do realize what's in those things, right?"

But John's words went unheeded as the four other men took the jars out to examine. The preserved entrails of a different organ were held in each one.

"Lovely," John sneered in disgust. "Don't suppose anyone has any pickled mummy recipes?"

* * *

Ianto Jones wasn't feeling his best.

Unfortunately, his drinking the previous evening was causing certain problems this morning as work got underway on the sarcophagus. His only reassurance was that Owen and to some degree Jack, with their dark circled eyes and sluggish demeanor, seemed to be suffering as well.

Hangovers were never a good idea when trying to work underground.

Ianto was unfolding the puzzle box with a little difficulty, his hands seemed unable to grasp the concept that had been so easy for him before. "I can't believe I allowed you two to get me tipsy."

"Don't blame me," Owen said. "I was already passed out, like a true and proper boozer."

"Tipsy doesn't quite cover it," Jack said. He looked surprisingly more refreshed than the other two, "You were drunk as a skunk." He moved closer and whispered, "You made some pretty big promises too-"

Horrified and flushed with embarrassment, Ianto fumbled with the box and Jack finally gently took it and opened it for him.

"Relax. Nothing happened," Jack assured him softly. "Though you did agree to start calling me Jack."

Relieved, Ianto smiled, then cleared his throat, "I suppose we should open this then."

"It is why we're here," Jack agreed. He inserted the key, but stopped before it could lock in place, "Don't suppose this could be booby trapped, could it?" he asked Ianto.

Ianto shook his head, "I've never read any record of a sarcophagus itself being booby trapped."

"Let's hope you're right about that. I kind of like my face the way it is," Jack said and turned the key to the right, initiating a series of grinding noises as the mechanism responded. A loud hiss sounded at the breaking of the airtight seal.

All three of them backed away, glancing at each other in both excitement and anxiousness. There was no acid steam or unwanted spikes to the face. No surprises at all.

Grunting from the effort and stretching their hungover muscles unpleasantly, they slowly but surely began to slide the heavy lid off until it fell and hit the ground below. The resounding _slam_ that echoed in the chamber had all three men holding their heads in pain.

Within the sarcophagus was a considerably less grand wooden coffin. They lifted it out and Ianto couldn't help the nervous feeling of anticipation staring down at the ancient object, covered in filth and spider webs, gave him.

Jack couldn't help a smirk at Owen and Ianto, "Either of you got a thing for dead guys?" he asked cheekily.

Ianto flashed Jack a very _Ianto_ look, before he began brushing off the webs and dust, clearing the coffin lid and looking for hieroglyphics. The lack of finding any sent a chill up his spine.

"Look, all the sacred spells have been chiseled off. The hieratics and hieroglyphs that protect the deceased on his journey into the afterlife, they've been removed. This man was cursed-doomed."

Jack wagged his brows, "So he _was_ a bad boy then?"

Ianto nodded, "Apparently, and it wasn't just this life, he's been condemned in the next life as well."

"Poor blighter," Owen mockingly moaned. "Now-shall we take a look inside; see what our friend here has buried with him?"

Ianto dusted off a similar lock that, like before, Jack inserted the key into. Another hiss and this seal was broken as well. This time however, a foul stench, the likes none of them had ever smelt before, emanated from the cracked open lid. Owen gagged, Ianto choked on a cough and Jack covered one hand over his mouth.

"Jesus," Owen exclaimed. "It's worse than the _bloody_ Warden's pits."

Jack tried to pry the lid off, but the thing wouldn't budge. He prompted the other two men to help him and with much heaving, they finally popped the lid completely off.

With the lid's removal came the coffin's inhabitant, a hideous maggot infested, still rotting corpse in black stained oozing bandages. It seemed to jump right at them.

The three men jumped back, all screaming like idiots.

And the corpse plopped back into its coffin.

Jack swallowed and asked, "Is he supposed to look like that?"

"Those bandages do look frighteningly sticky, don't they?" Owen said.

"There's something wrong here," Ianto mused, stepping toward the coffin slowly and carefully, peaking in tentatively at the twisted deformed looking mummy. "I've never seen a mummy that looks this, this-"

"Juicy?" Owen offered.

"Yes. He's more than three thousand years old and still decomposing."

Jack pointed at the inside of the coffin lid, "And take a look at this." There were traces of dried blood and dozen of deep scratches on the inner lid. "That looks like-"

"Fingernails," Ianto gasped. "Jesus, he was buried _alive_."

"Looks like he left us a message too," Jack said, pointing out a cluster of crudely fashioned hieratics in dried blood.

"Death is only the beginning," Ianto translated.

Owen shivered and Ianto looked at Jack, their eyes locked.

"You planning on staying down here much longer?" Jack asked Ianto. "I think I might go get another gun if you are."

"What are you going to do, shoot him?" Owen asked.

Jack nodded, "If he decides to wake up, hell yes!"

"There's no need for that," Ianto assured, though he didn't look completely convinced. "I think we're done here for now."

* * *

Night descended upon the City of the Dead and Jack's group had merged into the American camp. Members from both parties gathered around a giant roaring campfire. The wary truce was matched by an uneasy calm, as revolvers and rifles lay at the ready, should any of the Med-jai decide to reappear.

Arms folded to keep warm, Ianto passed casually by the large tent of Dr. Chamberlin, a small burlap bag clutched to his chest. The Egyptologist stood at a worktable arrayed with various artifacts, including one jewel encrusted jar in perfect condition and another in pieces.

"Evening Doctor," he said as he passed, but Chamberlin didn't respond. Though this wasn't by any rudeness on his part, the doctor was wholly absorbed in the examination of a large brass hinged obsidian book with a familiar looking lock keeping him from opening it.

Smiling to himself, Ianto continued on to the fire, sitting between Owen and Jack. The odd, yet still handsome, John Hart sat on Jack's other side, but Ianto made sure to move as close as he could, touching Jack's knee with his own, much to Jack's delight.

Jack was roasting scraggly meat on a stick. The pungent smell turned Ianto's stomach.

Owen sniffed the air, "What is this stuff? It smells like our late friend, the Warden."

Jack grinned wickedly.

"You did not!?" Owen turned green. "We're not!?

Jack laughed, "It's rat gizzards. They smell bad and taste worse, but that's the best the desert has to offer." He offered his stick, "Want some?"

Owen shuddered, "I think I'd rather starve, thank you."

Across the orange and red flames, the Americans examined their finds from earlier, talking excitedly amongst themselves as they did. Each of the three men held a jar; an exact copy of Dr. Chamberlin's and it seemed they were all but fondling the ancient relics.

"We hear you gentlemen found yourselves a nice gooey mummy," Burns said. The flames danced on the lenses of his glasses. "Congratulations."

Daniels laughed, "You know if you dry him out, you can always sell him for firewood."

The other two Americans joined in, sending mocking laughter all throughout the camp.

Ianto ignored their uncouth behavior and turned to Jack, "I made an interesting discovery after you and Owen went topside."

Jack frowned, "What's that?"

Ianto emptied the canvas bag on the ground, so both Jack and Owen could have a gander at his newest find; a pile of big, dusty bug exoskeletons.

Owen recoiled, "The blazing hell are those?"

"Scarabs, flesh eaters, I found them inside our friend's coffin. They can stay alive for years living off the flesh of a corpse, or in this case-the living. It seems our friend wasn't exactly a corpse when they started eating him."

Owen and Jack shuddered simultaneously.

"Are you saying somebody threw these things in with our guy, and they slowly ate him alive?" Jack said.

"Very slowly."

"Poor chap certainly wasn't very popular, was he?" Owen said.

Jack smirked, "Must have got a little too frisky with the Pharaoh's daughter."

"Son actually-" Ianto said. "There's only one man ever recorded to have such mummification as this, known as the Hom-dai, the worst form of mummification that there was. It was told that whoever this man was, he was inappropriately involved with the Pharaoh's son." He spared Jack a wan smile, "The Pharaoh didn't take to his actions too kindly."

"Sounds like it," Jack agreed

"In the grief of losing his lover, the pharaoh's son killed himself, swearing one day they would be together again."

"So this guy got frisky with the pharaoh's son and got turned into a mummy because of it," John ventured with a whistle. "Tough break."

Ianto continued, "It was a rarely used curse. It's written, that if a victim of the Hom-dai should ever arise, he would bring with him the ten plagues of Egypt."

"Plagues of Egypt? Like in the bible?" Jack said. "Like with Moses and the Pharaoh and all that?"

"Just like Moses and the Pharaoh-and all that," Ianto said with a nod.

"Let's see how much Sunday school I remember," Owen said, ticking off the plagues on his fingers, "You have your frogs, your flies, your locusts- _bugger_ , I'm stuck already."

"Hail," Burns said from across the flames. "And fire."

"Sun turning black," Henderson added.

"Water turning to blood," Daniels said.

"Then comes my personal favorite," Owen said. "Boils and sores all over the body. Can't anyone think of the other two?"

No one answered.

"Well eight out of ten isn't bad," John said.

"Yes, I'm quite impressed you know that many," Ianto agreed.

"You'd be surprised how many things I happen to know, Mr. Jones" Jack said, bumping his shoulder lightly.

Ianto smiled, "Do tell, Mr. Harkness."

The two men were too busy looking at each other to notice the look of contempt that covered John's face before he took off. Not that either man noticed his leaving.


	8. Chapter 8

Later that night, Ianto walked passed Dr. Chamberlin's tent again. The man was nowhere to be seen, but on the same table as earlier sat the object Ianto had been thinking about. One glance at the large, hinged book and Ianto knew he had to take a closer look.

He grabbed the object with both hands-

"Something I can help you with, eye candy?"

Ianto stopped at the voice, then immediately bristled. He turned on the shorter man, Jack's _supposed_ pal, feeling both foolish and a bit embarrassed at being caught.

"You know," John said. "He's been studying this thing for quite some time and the poor sod just can't seem to open it."

"That's because it needs a key," Ianto said, holding the book to his chest protectively.

"Don't suppose you have this key, do you?" John said, rocking on his heels.

Ianto swallowed, "I-might."

"Then take the blasted thing, I'm tired of that idiot Doctor anyway. I can tell you're a man who enjoys knowledge and he's becoming so very useless."

"Useless?" Ianto said. "How do you mean?"

"Well for one thing he's a _bloody_ eyesore," John glanced at Ianto with a meaningful grin. "And I think we can all agree, even without the title Doctor, you're the _real_ scholar here."

"You flatter me sir, but-"

"Take it, eye candy," John said. "You know you want to."

Ianto considered John's words. Before he could think better of it, he turned on his heel, book still held to his chest, and marched back to the bonfire.

He didn't see the leering smirk on John's face as he left.

Moments later, Ianto was sitting in the glow of the campfire, studying the book intently.

"That's called stealing, you know," Jack said, sliding in next to him.

"I believe the term you like to use is 'borrowing'," Ianto replied, referring to the tool kit Jack _borrowed_ from earlier. He grabbed the puzzle box from Jack's pack and inserted into the book's lock, it fit in perfectly, just as he knew it would.

"I thought you said the book was made of gold?" Jack said.

Ianto shook his head, "This isn't the Book of Amun Ra- it's something else. I think it might be the Book of the Dead."

Jack frowned, "Book of the Dead?" He didn't like the sound of that. "Are you sure you should be messing with that?"

"Don't be absurd. It's a book. What harm ever came from reading a book?"

And before Jack could stop him, Ianto turned the key.

The unlocking click seemed to echo across the night and Ianto looked around to see if anyone, particularly the Doctor, had been roused by it. Aside from the snores of the sleeping men around them, all was quiet.

Wind blew through the camp and the campfire shuttered, but didn't blow out.

The two men shared a nervous look, and then Ianto laughed. Jack followed, but not very convincingly. They moved closer and Jack put an arm around Ianto's shoulder, feeling protective for some reason, yet also comforted by the other man's warmth.

Ianto's eyes slowly scanned the first page, lips moving as he read silently.

"Please tell me it's just the Hamanaptra phone book or something."

"Ahm kum Ra. Ahm kum Dei. It speaks of the night and of the day."

"Ianto, I really don't think you should be reading-"

But Ianto began to read aloud, wanting to hear the words, feeling almost compelled to say them-

Neither of them knew that within the chamber where the mummy lay, uncovered in his coffin, inside his granite sarcophagus, something was stirring. The corpse, once unmoving and shriveled began to twitch. His ancient flesh and bones stirred as, without warning, his eyelids opened and the mummy awoke with an ear piercing screech.

"No!" a voice screamed from behind him. "No, you mustn't! You mustn't read from the book!"

Like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Ianto shut the book's cover. The Egyptologist ran towards them. Halfway through reaching the campfire, Dr. Chamberlin froze in place, eyes turning toward the desert behind him, as if he'd heard something.

And soon Jack and Ianto heard it too, a buzzing, building drone that was coming from the desert. It reminded Jack of a plane, but he knew that wasn't it. The sound was more piercing and with more of a whine.

The two men flew to their feet and Owen stumbled out of his tent to join them. The buzzing whine was building, becoming as loud as a siren.

The Americans roused from their tents as well, armed with their revolvers; eyes wild from being woken so erratically.

They all stood in the flickering firelight, watching the massive cloud of darkness in the desert, confused and somewhat frightened. Then the dark cloud drew nearer and it became apparent, it wasn't a cloud at all. Locusts, a swarming pile of locusts descended upon them, enveloping everything and everyone-

Jack grabbed Ianto's hand and dragged him through the rain of wings, Owen at his other side; they frantically headed toward the crevice at Anubis' feet.

Meanwhile, the Americans headed towards a different entrance to the underground. Dr. Chamberlin, clutching the book Ianto had left behind looked to the sky. "What have we done?"

Jack, Ianto and Owen returned to the familiar embalming room in the tunnels, slowing only to pick and slap locusts off themselves. Jack, who'd somehow managed to grab his gunnysack in the madness, struck a match off his fingernail and lit the nub of a torch.

"I never saw so many goddamn grasshoppers in my whole life," Owen said, slapping yet another bug from his hair.

"Not grasshoppers," Ianto corrected weakly. "Locusts."

"Locusts?" Owen exclaimed. "That's one of the ten _bloody_ plagues, isn't it?"

"This is not a plague," Ianto insisted. "There's a perfectly rational explanation for this. It's simply a natural phenomenon that happens at certain times of the year. Swarms like these aren't uncommon at all, especially in the desert."

"Right," Jack said before he pointed to the floor. "So how do you explain those then?"

Ianto looked down, where he was in the process of nearly stepping on a rather squishy looking frog. He glanced around, but they were everywhere, nasty slimy frogs, all around them. Ianto cringed. "Well um-that's-"

"Are they a natural phenomenon too?"

Before Ianto could possibly think of an answer, the ground underneath them began to shake. The sand from the floor began to swarm, much like the locust above them. Except, on second glance, Jack realized, it wasn't sand.

From everywhere, the cracks in the ground, the chips in the walls and above in the ceilings, they came spilling out. A horrifying, growing pile of scarab beetles.

Hundreds of the small beetles moved toward them in a black, wriggling wave.

Ianto and Owen screamed and Jack joined them, but it came out as the words, "Come on!"

Jack's torch leading the way, they fled into the passageway, even as the beetles followed behind them.

* * *

Elsewhere the Americans, stampeding their own way down the tunnels, managed to drop the man who had been leading them, Burns to the floor. His glasses shot off at the impact and crushed in the impact of a foot stomping past.

Without his glasses, the man was virtually half blind and as his comrades ran past him, he called out to them, "Wait," he called. "Wait."

They either didn't hear him or, more likely, didn't care.

Burns did his best to navigate the darkness, running one hand along the wall, holding the other out in front of him. He could see light up ahead, not from any torch, but rather moonlight filtering through the crevice above. He could make out an indistinct figure maybe ten feet away.

"Henderson," he called. "Daniels, is that you?"

Burns staggered toward whoever it was, reaching blindly to take a hold of the person in front of him.

At the contact his fingers sunk in.

It didn't take long to form that fact that this wasn't any of his comrades but instead-

Dear god!

Burns tried to scream, but a skeletal hand clamped over his mouth, muffling the sound.

* * *

Jack led Ianto and Owen down several tunnels they hadn't been down before and soon they found themselves in a chamber with stairs. The three clamored up the stairs in hopes it might slow the beetles pursuit, but the mass of scurrying insects stayed right on their heels.

"Hell, they don't quit, do they?" Owen shouted.

Jack pointed, "Look. Up there."

Halfway up and to the left of the staircase was a pedestal chiseled out of the wall, where something might have once stood, but was now empty. Jack leaped onto it and Owen followed. There was a similar indent to the right and Ianto leaped onto that one instead.

The herd of insects was fooled by the tactic as they continued up the stairs, moving as one giant mass of twittering legs and snapping pincers.

Jack and Owen watched until the horrible insects were out of view before they both sighed in relief.

"They're gone," Owen said. "Thank Christ."

Jack patted him on the shoulder, "Ianto, you alive over there?" he called.

The two men looked when no one responded, " _Bloody hell_ Jones, you better not be-" Owen's eyes widened, "-gone."

The pedestal where the man _had_ been standing was empty.

Jack handed his torch to Owen and jumped to the stairs then onto the other pedestal. His fingers traced over the wall, searching for any cracks or indication of air behind the stone.

Owen called to him, "Anything?"

"Nothing-there's got to be a hidden switch, or a trap door or-"

Somebody screamed, Jack turned back to Owen, but he shrugged, "Wasn't me."

The scream became a layer of screams that echoed from the top of the stairway. Jack looked to Owen again and grabbed his revolver, jumping back to the staircase.

Out of the darkness came Henderson and Daniels, who were scrambling down two steps at a time, screaming their lungs out.

Henderson yelled at them, "Out of the way, you sorry sons of bitches-run for your lives!"

And from behind them came the awful returning sound of hungry chittering from the herd of beetles, making their way back down the stairs.

Jack, quickly followed by Owen, took the American's lead and ran. Jack was brave, but not stupid. He had no intention of experiencing death by hungry beetles.

Ianto found himself enveloped in darkness. He'd leaned back too hard on the wall behind the pedestal where he'd perched and had fallen through what seemed to be some kind of trap door. It moved under his weight, sending him tumbling backward before dumping him on the sandy floor of an adjacent chamber. He heard the door close behind him as soon as he realized what had happened.

He called out, "Owen, Jack!-"

But there was no response. Shaking the sand off himself, he got to his feet and began tentatively feeling his way along the wall. At least there were no scarabs down here -or _locusts_ -or _frogs-_ or any other vermin that he could see.

Rounding a corner, Ianto entered a chamber where he was relieved to see moonlight filtering through a long crack in the ceiling. An even greater relief was the sight of one of the Americans, _Burns_ he recalled, standing in the moonlight. His back was to Ianto and his head was reared upward.

"Thank god," Ianto said, approaching him. "I was starting to get worried for a-"

As he neared the other man, Ianto heard what sounded like quiet whimpering.

Touching his shoulder, he asked, "Are you alright?"

Burns turned and stared at him, empty gory sockets where his eyes used to be, streaks of blood trailing like tears down his face.

Ianto immediately let him go. He may or may not have screamed at the sight.

Moaning, Burns fell to his knees, holding his arms up as if praising something. Ianto backed away, breathing hysterically loud and grasping blindly behind him until he bumped into something solid that stopped him. Solid, but-sticky? Wheeling around, he looked into the slimy, bandaged face of the newly awakened mummy, who looked at him through recently acquired eyes, Burns eyes.

The mummy squinted at him before a decaying claw of a hand pawed the air.

" _Djoser-"_ the mummy rasped at him.

This time Ianto did scream, he backed into the wall and the mummy stumbled toward him, its body literally decaying with each step.

As the mummy closed in on him, Ianto edged further down the wall. He was horror struck, but determined to find a way out. He was half convinced he was dreaming, but he refused to end up like Burns. The poor man was a sobbing mess on the floor and Ianto moved forward to try and help him, but the man refused to budge, slapping him away.

Ianto relented and returned to the wall as the mummy staggered toward him. "Please don't. I'm not that tasty, honest. Nothing but gristle and bone-"

Burns raised his head then and Ianto was horrified to see blood frothing from his mouth as he tried to talk. Burns tongue was missing, ripped out.

Ianto, still sliding down the wall as the mummy stretched out his arms at him, kept his eyes on the creature, waiting for it to strike out at him. The strike never came and it seemed a bit presumptuous on his part, but something, the way the creature came at him, it wasn't crazed or violent, it almost seemed-affectionate.

Which actually terrified Ianto more.

" _Kadeesh pharos Djoser_!" the mummy cried and Ianto could see, past the rotted teeth a fresh new flapping tongue -Burns' tongue.

Nearly paralyzed with fear, Ianto still continued down the wall. The mummy lumbered after him, slow and unsteady, but still very much moving, hands outstretched toward him. Then Ianto ran out of wall and instead, he realized with relief, had found the entrance of a tunnel.

He turned, ready to flee, but bumped into something solid standing in his way.

Clawing at the object, he almost didn't realize he was hitting the broad chest of Jack Harkness until the man ordered him to _stop it_. "Would you quit playing around," Jack said, taking him by the arm and moving him back toward the moonlit chamber. "This is not time for exploring. Let's get out of here already-"

And that was when he looked beyond Ianto and saw the tall creature, with rotting flesh; black oozing bandages and exposed bones, moving toward them.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Jack said, pushing Ianto behind him. "It's a damn mummy."

"So good of you to notice," Ianto said dryly.

The mummy seemed irritated by Jack's touching Ianto and what appeared a look of rage filled his distorted, decaying face. As he began lurching forward, reinforcements arrived. Owen and the Americans came crashing through the tunnel, unexpectedly, it seemed. The three men saw the bandaged corpse and froze on the spot. The mummy took at the newcomers with his newly acquired eyes, moving from Owen to Henderson to Daniels and finally back to Jack.

His jaw unhinged in much a way a snakes would when devouring its prey and the mummy emitted a primordial scream that would have been loud enough to wake the dead-where the dead not already raised before them.

The room filled with a reply of shrieks and screams at the sound, though the resounding explosion from Jack's elephant gun was, unsurprisingly, the loudest of them all. The eardrums of everyone involved weren't spared any mercy from the resounding _bang_.

But it did much worse for the mummy, the blast tossing him like a rag doll, ripping a hole clean through his middle.

No one decided to stick around after that. Jack pulled both Owen and Ianto into the darkness of the nearest tunnel, rushing them onward, the two Americans followed after.

Jack's torch led the way and they were soon back in the embalming chamber where their rope still hung, providing an exit. Jack let the American go first, then Owen and finally Ianto. He grappled up himself last. Upon exiting, the air now thankfully locusts free, Jack sucked in the fresh air greedily.

Soon though, the air was whipping around again, not from locusts, but something else entirely. The men all huddled around the half buried of Anubis, fear and exhaustion painted across their faces.

From the darkness, through the stirring sand, emerged the familiar sound of hoofbeats. The Med-jai warriors dismounted their rides and came at them on foot, rifles at the ready. Jack's weapons were empty and all around him he saw men raising their arms in surrender. Dr. Chamberlin was apparently already their prisoner as one of the Med-jai tossed him alongside the others.

Then Jack had to steel himself, when the leader, his lovely little Tosh, emerged from behind the others. "Who did this?" she demanded. "Who read from the book of the dead? Who invoked the sacred incantation? Who?!"

Before Ianto could fess up, and Jack could see from the stubborn look in his eye he intended to, Jack jumped ahead of him. "Me-it was me. I read from the book."

"You?" Tosh said, clearly in disbelief. "You read this?"

"I did."

"You are the leader, are you not?"

Jack nodded, signature grin in place, "Captain Jack Harkness, at your service."

Nothing. Not a blink or blip registered on Tosh's face. If anything she looked more annoyed. "You were warned. I told you to leave this place or die. You refused and now you may have doomed us all. You have unleashed the evil we have held at bay for more than three thousand years."

"Can't help but notice you don't look much like the rest of your crew," Henderson said. "Never seen a group like yours led by a woman before and you sure as hell ain't no Arab. Who the hell are you?"

"My birth name is Toshiko Sato, but I am known as Tosh." Tosh raised her scimitar. "And the next remark like that and you won't have to worry about speaking ever again."

Henderson swallowed.

"Toshiko Sato," Ianto murmured the name. Where had he heard it before?

"Relax," Jack said to both Henderson and Tosh. "I got him, blasted a hole right through him."

Tosh's face was filled with indignation, "No mortal weapons can kill this creature. He is not of this world."

Two Med-jai warriors brought forth Burns, slumped and barely conscious, the poor American stared ahead with two bloodied sockets that held no eyes.

Horrified and outraged Henderson and Daniels lunged forward, Henderson yelling, "What have you bastards done to him?"

"We saved him!" Tosh growled. "Saved him before the creature could finish his work. Be glad he only took your friend's tongue and eyes."

Henderson and Daniels both watched their friend morosely.

"Now leave, all of you, quickly, before he finishes you all!"

Owen looked torn between admiration and fear at the petite woman clothed in black and brandishing a scimitar, "Oh. So you're not going to kill us then?"

Ianto glared at him and Owen shrugged.

"Killing you will solve nothing now," Tosh said. "We must go on the hunt and find this creature-and find a way to kill him."

"We could always work together," Jack suggested.

Tosh looked at him, eyes clouded and unsure, "Know this, the creature will be coming for you. He must consummate the curse. And until he does, he will never eat, he will never sleep, and he will never stop. I have no other choice-as I said we must hunt and find this creature." Her eyes found the three Americans and the Egyptologist and finally Ianto then Owen. She spoke to Jack, "If you are the one who released him-he'll want _you_ most of all."

Ianto shuddered and Tosh didn't seem to miss this, he turned to Jack, "There's only one man I know who can help us put this right, Dr. Bey. We have to go back to Cairo."

Jack's eyes never left Tosh's, "So, you'll come with us?"

"I have no choice. Where you go, he will follow." Tosh said.

Jack was relieved, he only wished Gwen were here and his whole team would be back. He could only hope she was safe and sound back in Cardiff. That maybe that beautiful brain of hers was working on a way to bring them back home.

"Now I remember," Ianto said to Jack, causing him to turn to the younger man. Tosh was retrieving her horse and out of hearing range. "Toshiko Sato, you asked me about her on the boat."

Jack tried to shush him, "Not here." But he didn't miss the suspicious looks sent by the Americans and he sighed, "Let's get going while the going's good."

"Where's your friend, John?" Ianto said.

Jack was wondering that too. John missing was way more worrying than John when he was present. But at the end of the day his team came before John Hart. "I can't say that's really our concern right now. Let's get the camels."

* * *

After the locusts had driven them underground, John Hart had broken away from the Americans at his first opportunity, hiding away in the darkest corner he could find. Hiding until he was ready to find his way out again.

The book of the Dead, he should have known it was wrong to goad Ianto into taking it. Now, by reading the damn thing, he'd brought a curse and a supposed mummy upon them all. Being stuck here was bad enough without some walking corpse bent on revenge for his dead lover or whatever. John was only glad he hadn't been involved in taking or opening anything in any of these chambers.

Jack-John wanted so much to be with him now, but the other man had been so distantly cold. Granted he _had_ abandoned Jack at the battle and left him in prison, but it was hardly the worst John had ever done. And Jack deserved it, a tight ass and pretty smile and Jack had all but forgotten John Hart. Which was typical, John supposed. Not that he was jealous of Ianto Jones or anything; Jack would come back around to him eventually. Torchwood members only lasted so long and eye candy's time was ticking.

Because _he_ would get out of this, John knew that. Though he would definitely _think_ the next time he showed up at Torchwood and started touching things. The damn box had just been sitting there though and in the middle of what was essentially junk it looked so tempting-

The gold object Ianto had opened the book with, it flashed together the moment John saw Ianto hold it up and unfold it _._

In his attempt to find the exit, John almost bumped into somebody.

 _Something._

John looked at the rotting mummy, standing right in his way and tried not to back down in fear. He withdrew his revolver and pointed it at the foul looking corpse.

The mummy stumbled forward, skeletal hand outstretched-reaching for John's throat.

Then just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. The mummy halted and stared at him with hideous eyes from its rotting face.

Suddenly, the mummy clawed at himself as if looking for something, he finally withdrew a small object. A jeweled fragment from one of the jars the American had taken.

"You know them-the ones who took these?" the mummy's voice was a deep rumble, echoing across the chamber.

John nodded, not sure how he understood the monster's words.

"Take me to them- _serve_ me. Serve me and the rewards will be endless. Refuse me and die!"

"Well," John watched as the mummy's hand rose as if to suck the life out of him. "When you put it like that-"


	9. Chapter 9

On the southernmost outskirts of Cairo, was the small encampment known as Fort Stack. A mud-brick building that stood out much like an oasis to the weary travelers. The Union Jack flapped lazily through the dry breeze as the dirty, disheveled and exhausted caravan sought refuge inside the brick walls, a majority of its members on the verge of collapse.

For two days the members mostly slept in the guest quarters of the fort and most only left the compound, namely Owen and the Americans, to visit the nearby tavern.

It was on that second day of searching for the the curator, the man Ianto longed to speak to but was still unable to find, that the Welshman came to a decision.

He threw a steamer trunk on the bed and proclaimed, "We should go back."

Jack stared at him. He was pleased to have his team (though not exactly _his_ team) back together and he'd been listening to Ianto ramble on for a good hour or so. He'd barely slept a wink since they'd returned. The idea that he and his team (minus one Gwen Cooper) might be stuck here had him thinking; what if they couldn't go back? What if Owen, Tosh and Ianto never got their real memories back, what then?

Not that two nights _cuddling_ with Ianto hadn't given him some pleasure, he just felt he was back at square one again in their (whatever term they were using besides) _relationship_. And Jack had needs, _dammit_.

"I don't think so." Jack said.

Ianto began stuffing clothes into the trunk, "Why not? You heard what Tosh said, and she's right. The curse is very specific; he'll seek us all out if we don't seek him out first. It's those who disturbed his slumber that-"

Jack began removing the clothes, "I thought you didn't believe in curses."

Ianto huffed, "Well, apparently I was wrong. Having an encounter with a three thousand year old walking-talking corpse does tend to convert one."

"So you think we should what, offer ourselves up as sacrificial lambs?"

"We brought him back, Jack-we have to stop him. Do you realize the amount of innocent causalities we could cause just by being here?"

"Maybe you'd like to go see Paris or New York?" Jack said suddenly. "You, me, Owen and Tosh, we could all go. I'm sure it's lovely this time of year-"

"We can't run from this Jack, you know it and I know it," Ianto returned the clothes.

"Thought I'd try anyway," Jack shrugged, pulling the clothes out once more.

Ianto continued, "We woke him-and it's our responsibility to try and stop him"

" _We_ woke him? I told you not to read from that book."

"Alright- _I_ woke him and _I_ intend to stop him. If you don't want to help me _fine_ , I'll do it on my own," Ianto swatted Jack's hands away from taking out more things from his luggage. "Stop it!"

They began a tug of war over clothes and other necessities Ianto insisted on trying to stuff back into the case, as if the man honestly thought Jack was going to let him run off on his own. Searching for treasure was one thing, fighting off a mummy with no proper Torchwood equipment or training was completely another. Jack wasn't gambling any of his team's lives, not here. He'd go and face the damned thing himself if he had to, but he was not risking Ianto-the librarian who'd never held a gun before-not like he'd done with his archivist and the cannibals. He wasn't making that mistake again.

Jack released a shirt sleeve that sent Ianto tumbling back into the dresser, "Look, if he shows up I'll just shoot him again, alright?"

"Didn't you hear her? No mortal weapon can kill him, you can't just expect to-" Ianto stopped. "That's it!"

"That's what?"

"No mortal weapon-maybe we'll have to find an immortal one instead."

"Ianto-"

"I'll go do a bit of research see what I can find, maybe there is a way we can stop him without having to go back-"

"Ianto," Jack tried again.

Ianto brushed past Jack as if he hadn't heard him. Jack could see the determined look of a man seeking knowledge and his heartbeat quickened. "Ianto," he grabbed his shoulder this time.

Ianto turned to him, "Let me do this Jack, please."

"Fine," Jack said. "But only if you agree to stay close and don't you dare think about running off to play some kind of valiant hero without me, got it?"

Ianto's lips pursed. "Fine," he finally said, brushing Jack's hand away. "Why don't you go to the tavern like everyone else?" Clearly the man wanted some space.

"Fine," Jack agreed. He'd happily give it to him.

* * *

Within minutes, Jack was sitting in the bar in the dingy dive near the fort, where even in the middle of the afternoon, business was booming. The small place was filled with soldiers, mixing bad booze with bad women, for an overall good time. Jack sort of wished he could join in, have a bit of a good time himself, but his mood was unusually somber. He'd flirted with the bartender, but it had been halfhearted at best. A ceiling fan stirred the stale air as Jack sat next to Owen, who'd acquired a new friend, a walrus mustached man named Winston Havlock of the Royal Air force.

Ten minutes into a bottle of whiskey and Havlock was Jack's 'friend' as well.

"Harkness, old sport," Havlock slurred, eyes almost as red as his cheeks, "ever since the Great War ended, there's nary a challenge worthy of men like us."

"You might be surprised," Jack smirked. He kind of liked the old badger, who'd spent the last few minutes regaling his life story of planes and wars and dames and the like. It was entertaining if nothing else.

"At times, I wished I'd gone down in a blaze of glory like the other lads, instead of sitting around here, rotting away from boredom and booze!"

Owen was lifting a shot glass to his lips when Havlock reached out and plucked it from his fingers, gulping it down.

" _Bloody hell_ , Havlock!" Owen said. "What's the big idea?"

"That drinks not worthy of you lad," Havlock told him, climbing off the stool, but barely able to stand. The pilot slapped both Jack and Owen on the back and said, "Righto lads! It's back to the airfield with me."

And the man staggered off.

Jack raised an eyebrow, "How would you like to have _him_ as your pilot."

"Wanker doesn't even really need a plane to fly high, does he?" Owen said, before calling to the bartender for another drink.

As Owen and Jack enjoyed another round, Henderson and Daniels sidled up to the bar.

"Well," Henderson said wearily. "We've booked a steamer for America. We leave tomorrow."

Owen, more than a little tipsy, sneered at him, "Running back home to mummy, are we?"

"Don't mind him," Jack said. "He's drunk."

" _Bloody_ drunk, I'll have you know," Owen swiped a hand for the two men to join them, and then stopped at a sight behind him. " _Bloody hell_."

All four men turned to look. Standing at the door to the tavern, looking very out of place, but absolutely ravishing in a new tribal gown made of a deep scarlet, was Toshiko Sato. Ianto had picked out the garment for her, offering it as an olive branch of sorts and Jack had to marvel once again at the younger man's impeccable taste. Even Henderson and Daniels seemed awestruck.

The woman fiddled with her hands-reminding Jack very much of _his_ Tosh and looked almost spooked by the new atmosphere.

Owen, with courage Jack never thought he'd take when it came to Tosh, excused himself. "I'm afraid, as dear Ianto would say; it's getting a wee bit too barbaric in here." And with that he sauntered up to Tosh and offered her a drink. Relieved and slightly bemused, the woman agreed.

Jack grinned; at least something good might come out of all of this.

Henderson turned to Jack, breaking the trance, "So, do you think that maggot pile is really coming after us?"

"I don't really know," Jack shrugged. "Tosh and Ianto seem to think so. How's Burns?"

Daniel's face darkened, "How do you think he is? He had his goddamn tongue ripped out? How would you be?" Shaking his head, the man stormed out of the tavern.

"Sorry, he's just, can you imagine?" Henderson stared somberly into his shot glass, "If you ask me, the only way we could help Burns," he took the burning liquid in one long gulp, "-is to put an end to his misery."

Henderson asked for another shot and Jack joined him.

* * *

Sunlight filtered in through the closed curtains, but the third American-Burns, only saw darkness.

John Hart tapped his foot, the mummy sat in a chair opposite Burns, wrapped in a way that no one could see his rotted face or skin. He may have agreed (putting the term very loosely) to help the monster, but his heart wasn't really in it. This poor bloke-he had no idea what he was in for. Despite the earlier story that John had returned with a buyer interested in purchasing Burns jar from the expedition, the mummy, wrapped up more like the invisible man, wasn't about to buy anything from the blind and tongueless man. The mummy was here to claim both the jar and the rest of the man with no eyes.

"So varee peased too mee choo," Burns sloshed without his tongue. He thrust his hand out in a handshake-but was met only with air.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Burns, but this man's religion does not allow for such familiarity."

"Oh-soo saw-ree."

"This holy man sympathizes with your loss of eyesight, the eyes he's using aren't the best either."

Long, tapered finger, like long tree limbs reached out for the jar, touching Burn's hands.

The man shot up from his chair, all but tumbling over it in his haste.

"Waa-"

"The priest Imhotep thanks you for your eyes-and for your tongue."

Burns began to back away in terror.

"But I am afraid more is needed, the priest says he must finish the job, consummate the curse which you and your friends have brought down upon yourselves."

The only mercy the mummy, Imhotep had given Burns was taking his eyesight from him. It spared Burns the horror of having to see the mask fall from the priest's face as the creature came at him.

John winced, despite himself. Poor bugger, he thought.

* * *

Back at the dive near the fort, Jack and Henderson clanked their shot glasses together. Adversaries turned mutual friends of sorts. They saluted in what was a farewell drink.

"Good Luck, Harkness," Henderson said and simultaneously he and Jack threw their heads back into their shot glasses of whiskey-and then just as quickly, spat the liquid back out, spraying the counter and floor.

Around them, other patrons were doing the same, spitting and spraying their drinks across the walls and floors of the tavern, the liquid glimmered red.

"Sweet Jesus," Henderson wiped at a streak of scarlet at his mouth. "The hell?"

"Blood," Jack said.

The entirety of the tavern looked like the aftermath of a bloodbath.

 _Rivers in Egypt-filled with blood-_

A sick feeling clenched Jack's stomach, but the realization hit him just as Tosh rose and proclaimed, "He's here."

"Who's here?" Owen asked.

"Yeah, who?" Henderson followed.

Jack rolled his eyes, "Well it ain't Father Christmas I'll tell you that. Use your heads, who do you think?"

"No," Henderson gasped. "No way."

As Jack ran out into what had been a fairly sunny afternoon, he found a sky rolling with dark black clouds and flashes of lightning. Running across the road, through the front gates of the fort compound, Jack spotted a spooked Ianto, holding a cat of all things.

The sky thundered above and Jack chose that moment to grab Ianto's arm, nearly causing both the man and his newfound feline to attack him.

"Where did you get that?"

"I found her," Ianto said. "Jack, the plagues-"

"I know. He's here."

Then a barrage of hail and fire hurled from the sky, assaulting the courtyard like an air raid. The area filled with panic as people fled, trying their best to avoid the baseball-sized hail while dodging the fireballs that rained from the sky. Jack and Ianto dodged them as well and finally made it to some shelter against the flames.

"Are you sure?" Ianto asked wide-eyed. The cat leapt from his arms and trotted off into the mud-brick building, where it was safest.

A ball of fire crashed within inches of them.

"Call it a hunch." Jack said.

As abruptly as it started, the hailing ceased. The air filled with silence; an eerie and unnatural quiet. All Jack could hear was Ianto breathing beside him, when suddenly a scream of pain and terror ripped the silence like a knife.

It came from right above them.

"Stay here," Jack said and raced up the wooden staircase to the living quarters, where the scream had come from. Ianto followed.

A servant who had come in to check the quarters of Burns was back-stepping with a look of absolute horror on his face. Jack pushed him out of the way, to see inside the blinded man's room. He immediately caught sight of the man, or rather what was left of him, sprawled upon the floor, shriveled to a human husk and drained of all bodily fluids and organs.

"Oh no," Ianto gasped behind him. Jack was about to rebuke him, did the man know what the words _stay here_ meant, then a loud moaning emanated from the far side of the room, right by the window. Both men turned to see a bandaged figure standing there, loosely draped in a robe.

The mummy was skeletal, at first. Then slowly-the creature began to change, to regenerate.

Powerful muscles formed over the bones followed by thick skin, growing like waves of snakes slithering up and down his form. The hole Jack had blown in his middle slowly began to fill in as well. Despite his new more solid frame, he still appeared more corpse than human.

"Well-that's pretty." Jack said. Having come back from death so many times himself, it was a bit different to see it happening to someone else; terrifying even.

The mummy stretched, as if he'd just awoken from a very long slumber.

"Jack, I think we have a problem."

The mummy was moving toward them, slowly, but with a renewed strength that made him much steadier in his gait, and his eyes were fixed upon Ianto.

"Jack-"

Jack yanked out his Webley and trained it on the creature, "I don't think so _pal_."

But the mummy kept coming and Jack blasted away, staying in front of Ianto, emptying bullet after bullet into the creature. The walking corpse didn't seem to mind in the least, the bullets made no entrance wounds and drew no blood.

Clicking empty, Jack pitched his gun and thinking, _what the hell_ , reared back and threw his best right hook right at the mummy's face-

-and his fist went through the flesh, sinking right into the mummy's skull and sticking there.

"Seriously," Jack pulled and it took all his strength to retrieve his hand, which finally released with a disgusting slurping noise.

"Oh my god Jack, look!"

The place where he'd made contact was slowly starting to melt off, as if Jack's touch was made of acid. As if the mummy was allergic to him.

Roaring with rage, the mummy grabbed Jack by the shoulders, and though Jack tried to shake him off, his strength was too much and he tossed the man across the room like a rag-doll. And just as before, where he'd touched Jack, the mummy began to shrivel and decay.

As Jack dazedly tried to pick himself up, the mummy was closing in on Ianto, backing him up against a wall. Ianto gazed at him in fear.

The damned thing was smiling at him. He spoke softly, tenderly at him and leaned in. The goddamn monster was going to kiss him.

Jack was on his feet when the same cat Ianto had been holding before revealed itself atop a dresser, hissing and showing its teeth, back arched and growling, interrupting the would be moment between Ianto and the walking corpse.

The mummy reared back, shrieking at the animal.

Then the balcony doors flew open with a sudden gust of wind and the mummy evaporated into dust, whipping himself like a twister that went swirling out the doors.

Gone.

"Jesus," Ianto nearly collapsed and Jack caught him.

"What did he say to you?"

Ianto was trembling, "He said-I saved him and that he was grateful and something about making me immortal. Oh god."

"Trust me Ianto- _that_ is not going to happen," Jack said.

Ianto, despite his better judgment, let himself believe Jack's words. The alternative was too terrifying to fathom.

* * *

The curator, Dr. Bey, was surprised to find the door to his study suddenly flung open as an intimidating American in a great coat, Ianto Jones, and his drunkard friend Owen Harper stormed in. The two taller men look like they'd just bargained with the devil and lost.

Ianto scowled, "There you are. We've been looking for you for two days, where have you been?"

"An interesting greeting from a man who's wrought so much trouble, Mr. Jones. A mummy, dear boy-you've unleashed a _damned_ mummy on us all."

Beside Dr. Bey was Tosh, the two were perched over ancient text and books sprawled out on the curator's' desk.

"You two know each other?" Ianto asked.

Before the short man could answer, Jack stepped forward, "What's going on here?"

"Do you truly wish to know? Or would you prefer to just shoot us?"

Jack didn't realize he still had his gun out. He slid his weapon back in its holster.

Something seemed to snap inside Ianto's mind and he said to Bey, "You told the Med-jai I had the box, didn't you? You sent them to steal it, and to _kill_ me."

"It was not my desire to kill you boy and here you stand alive before me."

"But if I had been killed and the box was retrieved that would have been an acceptable price to pay, I suppose?"

"Frankly Mr. Jones, the life one silly, headstrong little boy in exchange for the rest of the world is really no contest."

"Boys, boys, you're both beautiful." Jack turned to Bey, "I think it's time for some honesty, doc. Tell us what you know."

Bey scoffed, "You would not be capable of comprehending-"

"Trust me doc, I've seen things that would make your nose hairs stand on end. I'm willing to at least browse whatever it is you're selling."

The curator studied Jack for several long moments, as if trying to decipher him, and then said, "Follow me." He led the group through the gallery, Tosh at his side.

Bey led them down an aisle under high skylights, past displays of mummy caskets, ornately adorned with tales of the mummification process that had Jack smirking with the irony.

As they stopped in a room, filled with even more mummies and treasures, Bey finally addressed them, "We are part of an ancient secret society, the cult-of-the-Mumia, and we have a sacred mission, passed down through thirty-nine generations. For over three thousand years we have guarded The City of The Dead. We are sworn at manhood to do any and all in our power to stop the High Priest Imhotep from being reborn into this world."

"The Med-jai," Ianto said.

Bey looked at him, "We may make a scholar of you yet.

Tosh looked angry, pointing at Ianto, "And because of _you_ , we have failed."

Jack opened his mouth and she turned to him, "Did you honestly think I thought you were the one who read from the book? I'll bet you don't know how to pronounce a single word."

Jack smiled and shrugged.

Ianto stepped forward and looked at Tosh, "And you think this justifies killing innocent people!?"

Bey answered for her, "To have stopped this creature? Yes!"

Jack stepped between them, "Hey let's keep this friendly, kay pops? You want to play pin the tail on the jackass or do you want to help us stop this over-fried piece of bacon?"

Ianto frowned, wondering if he'd just been insulted.

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we? He's afraid of cats, what's that about?" Jack said.

"Cats are guardians of the underworld. He will fear them until he is fully regenerated-then he will fear nothing. And nothing will be able to stop him," Bey said.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say those American blokes are going to be his meal for this regeneration business." Owen said.

"That would be correct," Tosh said.

Ianto stepped up to the Curator, who was sitting on an ancient throne that had once been a pharaoh's, "At Hamanaptra he addressed me by the ancient name-Djoser."

Bey pondered, "It was the Pharaoh's son's name as I recall."

"The Pharaoh's son-" Jack said, recalling Ianto's story of the reason for the man's mummification. The damning relationship between the two men that had tragically killed them both, "I'm pretty sure that ugly bastard was trying to kiss Ianto. Then the cat spooked him off."

Bey marveled, "Could it be after three thousand years, even after suffering unending death, flesh being slowly eaten away, that the story of their love-the love that damned them both; that even now he's still searching for a way to revive him?"

"A love that spans unending death, huh?" Jack said. "Kind of romantic isn't it?"

Ianto glared at him, "Hardly."

"And I fear he will try to raise his dead lover once again," Bey said.

"Yeah," Owen said, "How's he planning that then? Some magic spell?"

Tosh's eyes softened slightly on Owen. "No, he needs a human host," she said.

Bey's face was somber, "And it would appear he has chosen a subject." He pointed.

Ianto felt a sudden chill and every eye in the room upon him.

"Tough luck, Jones, sometimes it doesn't pay to be so popular." Owen said drolly.

"Forget what I said. I don't care how much he loved this guy, that is not sexy. At all." Jack frowned.

The gallery, lighted only by the gas torches, grew darker.

Tosh, who'd been silently watching out the windows, spoke up, "I fear his powers are growing."

They all looked at the ceiling toward the skylights that, until moments ago, had been shining down slats of sunlight upon them.

"...and he stretched forth his hands towards the heavens, and there was darkness throughout the land of Egypt." Dr. Bey recited.

The sun moved into a full eclipse, the afternoon becoming night.

* * *

They assembled, the two Americans joining them, in the foyer of Ianto's two room guest quarters. Henderson and Daniels were slumped in chairs, while Ianto and Owen paced. Tosh was petting the white cat that had scared the mummy earlier and looked up when the door opened.

Jack had done a little investigating and what he'd found hadn't pleased him. John- _bleeding_ -Hart, he'd been spotted with the damn mummy, claiming to be a buyer interested in purchasing one of the embalmed jars.

He closed the double doors upon his return and said, "It was John, he brought the mummy here."

"John?" Owen said, "I knew I didn't like the look of that guy. Didn't trust him from the moment I laid eyes on him."

Tosh turned on Henderson and Daniels, "Who opened that chest? Name everyone."

Henderson shrugged wearily, "Well, there was me and Daniels here and then poor Burns of course, oh yeah, and that Egyptologist fella."

"What about John?" Jack said.

"Nope, he didn't touch any of it, far as I know," Henderson said.

Jack wasn't sure if he should be relieved or not. John had been seen with the mummy, did that mean he was working with him too? Just when Jack thought he couldn't stoop any lower, siding with a dried up corpse, had John's taste truly sunk that low?

"Dr. Chamberlin, he was the last one seen with the book," Ianto looked to Jack. "We need to find that book-"

Jack shook his head, "No can do. I checked, his quarters are completely empty. He must have high tailed it out of here first chance he got."

"We have to find him," Ianto insisted. "If the mummy gets to him and does what he did to Burns, he'll only regenerate even closer to his original state."

"Except he'll be a super mummy-man-thing," Jack said.

"Chamberlin had an office here in Cairo," Henderson offered. "That might be where he went."

"Okay," Jack said. "Ianto, you wait here," he nodded to the two Americans, "you two come with me."

A madness of rebuttals erupted at his command and Jack felt like he was back at Torchwood, dealing with three irate Gwen Cooper's. All three men pounced on him at once.

"The hell with that, I'm not going anywhere! We're safe here." Henderson said.

"Yeah, I'm not leaving this fort for nothing." Daniels added.

Ianto looked ready to slug him, "Who put you in charge? You can't just leave me behind like some old suitcase. I'm the one responsible for this mess and I intend to be the one to clean it up."

Jack pursed his lips, looking from one man to the next. He decided it best to deal with the one person who actually seemed hell bent on offering himself to the mummy on a golden platter. Being that he and Ianto were roughly the same height, Jack used his slightly broader frame to his advantage and grabbing the man by the arm, dragged him toward the open doorway to the bedroom, tossed him in, and slammed the door.

No way was Ianto taking on a mummy that wanted him as a replacement for some dead lover. Tragic as the story was, Mr. Mummy was going to have to find someone other than Ianto Jones for his plans.

Ianto yelled, pulling on the doorknob. "Let me the hell out of here. Now!"

"Not a chance. Owen, is there a key to this door?"

"I think so."

"Owen don't you dare give him that key-"

"Sorry, Jones. I'm afraid he's-a bit _bigger_ than I am."

"Jack this isn't funny. Open this door-"

Ianto heard the click of the lock.

Jack pulled the two Americans close, amid Ianto cursing at him from behind the door, and said, "Keep an eye on him. If you leave him or let anyone in or out of that door, I'll rip your spleens out, got it?"

He threw the key back at Owen, "Watch this-watch _them_. I'll be back."

Tosh stood, "I'm going with you."

Jack stared at her a moment, before he nodded, "At least someone here has some balls." And with a sweep of his coat, Jack was out the door again.

* * *

Jack and Tosh navigated the winding, narrow streets of Cairo as they located the glass-maker's shop above which the good Dr. Chamberlin kept his office.

The door was unlocked, which wasn't what surprised Jack. The door was ajar and inside he could hear items being tossed and thrown about, drawers opening and closing; someone was tearing the place apart.

That someone, Jack realized as he kicked the door open, was his good old pal John Hart.

"Let me guess-" Jack began, freezing John on the spot, "misplaced your principals?"

"Jack, it's not-"

"Let me help you find them," Jack said cheerfully, pulling out his gun and pointing it right at John.

John sighed, but a smirk erupted when his eyes landed on Tosh, "Always knew red was your color, gorgeous."

Tosh frowned at his leer.

"It appears you have me outnumbered Jackie-boy, but I'm not entirely opposed to a threesome."

Jack ignored the quip, "Word around the street is you've got yourself a new friend, _Johnny. He's a_ bout _yea_ high, a little on the decaying side, smells like death and likes to suck on human go-go juice, any of that sound familiar to you?"

John smirked, "Oh come now Jack, you know you're my only _real_ friend."

Jack charged forward, slamming John into the wall and shoving the gun under the shorter man's chin. He said softly, menacingly, "Why John? What's in it for you? Why are you helping this monster?"

"It's a little tactic Jack, one I'm sure you well know; it's called self-preservation. It's better to be the right hand of the Devil than in his path

"Poetic," Jack said. "What are you doing here? What are you looking for?"

John managed a single harsh laugh, even with a gun aimed right at him, the man only laughed, "Do you really think that's going to stop Imhotep, your little guns and knives?"

"Imhotep?"

"That's his name, he insists I call him that."

Jack quirked a brow, "Rolling over for a rotted corpse, that's a bit beneath you isn't it?"

"Nothing's beneath me if it means living Jack, you know that."

"Don't I ever," Jack said, "But you didn't answer my question, "What are you looking for?"

John licked his lips, "Are you going to torture it out of me?"

Jack shoved his gun at the man's Adam's apple, "I'm kind of pressed for time."

John shrugged, "The book, the one your precious Ianto read from. That insipid doctor has it and Imhotep wants it."

"Why?"

"Because it's the only way he can finish regenerating," Tosh answered for John. "He needs the book to finish his transformation."

"Always knew she was the brains," John leered, "and the beauty."

"So all we need to do is get to that book before him, and then we can stop him, right?" Jack asked.

"That's not the only thing," John said. "He wants something else almost as much as he wants to be whole again, maybe even more."

"What's that?" Jack asked.

John's eyes looked away before coming to rest on Tosh and finally back to Jack, "Eye candy. He wants Ianto."

Jack's stomach dropped, "He'll have to kill me first."

John shrugged, "He won't mind. Don't look at me like that-it's not my fault he picked the pretty one. I'd just as soon he'd have doctor boy, but what can I say? You can hardly blame him, can you? Ianto did bring him back to life, I think he sees it as a reward."

"Some reward," Jack spat.

Outside, in the darkness of midday, a shrill scream rose like the howl of a wounded animal. Jack's eyes moved to the window and he took just enough pressure off of John's throat for John to rear his knee forward, right into Jack's groin.

Jack doubled over as John scrambled past him, "No hard feelings, I hope?" he called before leaping out the window, sliding down the awning and disappearing from sight.

"Are you alright?" Tosh approached him. "That was a very dirty move."

"No, it was very _John_ move," Jack retained his breath. "What's going on down there?"

The screams were followed by cries and murmurs of horror and concern. Jack could see, as he peered through the window, a crowd had parted and a body lay sprawled out amongst them. Though barely recognizable, and Jack really only could tell by the khaki clothing, the shriveled corpse of Dr. Chamberlin was displayed for all to see.

And over the husk of a man, stood the hooded figure, _Imhotep_ -as John had called him, the Book of the Dead tucked under his arm. The half man-half mummy plucked the embalmed jar from the withered fingers of the dead doctor.

As if sensing eyes were upon him, the creature looked suddenly, _sharply_ up at Jack poised in the window. His half fleshed jaw gave a small smirk of triumph. As before, he suddenly unhinged his jaw, and from within him a heaping swarm of flies emerged, a black buzzing mass that raced right for the window Jack stood at.

Jack slammed the shutter shut and the flies hit the wood, Jack could see, through the glass window beside it, the swarm turning tail and setting its sights on the crowd below.

"That's another plague, right?"

Tosh nodded, "There's only a few left. Jack-he has the book, now all he needs is-"

Jack was already running out the door, "Ianto."


	10. Chapter 10

"What's taking Harkness so long?" Daniels said, pacing while trying to light a cigarette, nerves getting the better of him.

Henderson shrugged, shifting the jewel encrusted jar in his hands absently, "The sky did turn black, and people are bound to be spooked. Streets might be a bit clogged."

Daniels stopped his pacing, "The hell with this. I'm going downstairs to get me a drink. You want something?

Henderson gave a small smile, "Bourbon, just bring me a damn bottle of it."

"Better make that two," Owen said.

Daniels nodded and headed out.

Henderson lit his own cigarette, and then offered one to Owen. The other man reached his hand out at the offered item, but something made him stop. A breeze, a whisper, there was something in the wind, coming from outside the shut window. "Did you hear that?"

Henderson listened, and then shook his head.

Then a breeze, coming seemingly from out of nowhere, slammed the shutter open. Owen shot up and even as he tried to shut it again, a tidal wave of sand blasted through the window, knocking him on his ass.

"The hell?" Henderson jumped up from his chair, just as the shifting sand morphed into a more human form-even more human like than the last time he'd seen the walking corpse.

" _Bloody hell_ ," Owen gasped, reaching for his gun.

Imhotep was upon him before he could reach the revolver and with one swift blow, Owen slumped over, down for the count.

Henderson gulped and tried fleeing for the door, but the mummy was on him within seconds-a swirling storm of sand once again, sucking like a vacuum at the American until he was bone dry, another husk of shell.

Taking human shape for a second time, Imhotep, now even more human, with only bits of flesh removed but nowhere near as skeletal, reached down to retrieve the jar Henderson had been holding. Sensing someone else, the one he'd longed to see again, Imhotep looked toward the closed bedroom door.

Inside, Ianto was browsing rather angrily through one of the many books he'd managed to find in the library that he thought might share some knowledge on how to help them stop the mummy. Unfortunately, he was coming up empty. Upset at Jack, but mostly at himself for causing this whole mess, he didn't notice that behind him, a trickle of sand had begun streaming through the keyhole.

He didn't feel the other man's presence until he was upon him, until hands that were way more fleshed out than before touched him from behind, swinging Ianto around to face him.

Dropping the book and letting out a startled yelp, Ianto didn't have much time to realize what was happening, until the monster had thrown him on his back, putting his mouth against his.

The door burst open in an explosion of splintering wood, Jack Harkness shouldering through and stopping short at the sight, "Mind if I cut in?"

Jack's voice brought Imhotep's face away from Ianto's and the other man was able to shove the putrid mummy away from him in disgust. A look of sadness filled Imhotep's face, then flared to anger as he looked at Jack, though his lips seemed to have- _melted_ a bit.

"Next time you're looking for a kiss, you might want to bring some lips pal." Not that Jack was against no lips per se, though he was feeling a bit _anti_ mummy at the moment.

The mummy raised his arms in attack, lurching forward, just as Jack called, "Tosh-now!"

Tosh appeared in the doorway, arms filled with a familiar white cat. A cat Imhotep took one look at and screeched. The cat hissed and screeched right back and both creatures seemed to be equally frightened and upset by one another. Clearly weakened, the mummy became another gust of sand and whirled out the window.

Ianto wiped the slime off his mouth, just as Jack came rushing to him. "You okay?"

Ianto smiled blandly, "Just got kissed by a dead guy, I suppose I can scratch that off the list of things I never want to do again."

"I wouldn't be doing that just yet-"

Ianto gave him an odd look, "That thing just kissed me, Jack-"

"You're right, never mind. What matters is that you're okay."

"Aside from my pride, I'm fine." Ianto said. "Though while he was kissing me I did manage to come up with an idea."

Jack raised a brow, then shrugged, "I suppose I've done some of my best thinking while kissing."

"I think I know how we can stop him-"

Daniels came in just then, dropping his bottle of bourbon the moment he saw Henderson, "Sweet Jesus, I'm next," he whispered.

"Not if we can get to the museum first," Ianto said. "I think we can only battle this antiquity with another antiquity.

Owen sighed, "I'll go get the car."

* * *

The Duesenberg convertible, had Jack again marveling (not for the first time) at how cars just weren't built like they used to be. Much as he loved the Torchwood SUV, nothing beat riding in a classic. As much as Owen liked to complain about Jack's driving, the shorter man was anything but patient in his swerving to and fro, though that could be due more to the streets being a bit full with people.

"Must you drive like a maniac?" Ianto asked from the back seat.

"If you'd like to try it, be my guest," Owen waved an arm at the crowded street, nearly hitting a man in the process. "It's a bit crowded out here if you haven't noticed."

Jack looked back at Ianto, trying to break the obviously tense mood, "So who's a better kisser, me or old zombie lips?"

"Why?" Ianto's lip flipped causally upward. "You jealous?"

Daniels leaned forward from the back seat beside Tosh-who sat in the middle, "Shut up all of you, this isn't a damn joke! We're all going to die if we don't stop that thing. We have to do something."

Ianto looked at him, eyes kind, "We are doing something. We're going to stop this, I promise."

The curator was waiting for them and Ianto immediately took the lead the moment he stepped foot in the museum. All four men and Tosh followed him as he strode through the museum. "Last month I came across an inscription that mentioned The Book of the Dead," he was saying.

"That book we found at Hamanaptra?" Daniels asked.

Ianto nodded, "Yes. I dismissed it, because it talked about bringing people back from the dead. Something I didn't believe in."

"I'm guessing you believe it now?" Dr. Bey said a bit irritably.

"Ask him how a three thousand old mummy tastes," Jack said, brows wagging.

Ianto gave him a cross look, "Anyway, I'm guessing if the Book of the Dead can raise him, perhaps the Book of Amun-Ra would be able to send him back."

Tosh nodded, "That does stand to reason, it might be able to undo the damage and send him back to his grave."

"Yes, yes, that most certainly sounds plausible Mr. Jones, however as you are aware, the Book of Amun-Ra has escaped the grasp of treasure hunters for centuries, how do you intend to acquire an item no man has ever found?" Dr. Bey asked.

Ianto shrugged, "Maybe they just didn't know where to look, or they were looking in the wrong place altogether."

"And I suppose you know where to look, Mr. Jones?" Dr. Bey all but snapped.

"As a matter of fact, I do."

They moved onto the balcony to the glass display case of fragmented stone tablets bearing ancient texts and hieroglyphics. The curator opened the case so Ianto could view them better. Doing so seemed to unleash an eerie chanting, coming from outside.

"The _bloody hell_ is that?" Owen asked.

The chanting was growing, one word kept being repeated over and over, getting louder and louder. "Imhotep. Imhotep. Imhotep."

The group gathered at the window to look down at the growing crowd, swarming like insects at the doors.

"Jesus," Daniels said. "What's wrong with them?"

"It's a bit like-"

"Zombies?" Jack finished for Owen.

"Not what I was going to say-what's a zombie then?"

Jack shook his head, "American term, doesn't matter, it's not good either way."

"Look at their flesh," Tosh pointed out.

Sores and boils, their skin was covered in them, disgusting lesions, oozing hideously in the torchlight.

"It's another plague," Owen said. "Boils and sores."

"And judging by their faces, they don't look too happy about it," Jack said.

"It has begun," Tosh said lowering her head. "The end begins."

"Not quite yet it hasn't," Ianto said, turning back to the display with the slabs, "I'm going to stop this." His focus turned completely to translating the text in front of him as he spoke to himself, ignoring the crowd's cries still lingering from outside, "The two books must have been confused, switched, so if the black book was inside Anubis, then the gold book should be-"

The chant outside continued, even louder than before.

"You want to speed it up a bit, Jones?" Owen called to him. He turned to Jack, "Why don't I go get the car, save us some time while Dr. Jones fannies about?"

Jack pointed out to Owen, "You know there's a horde out there right?"

Owen patted him on the shoulder, even as the _horde_ started throwing themselves against the door, trying to break it open. "No other choice, mate. See you in a jiffy."

"I'll go with him," Tosh offered, which made Jack feel a bit better and Owen certainly didn't object to the beautiful woman's company.

"Let's be off then, good luck gents."

And the two scurried off.

"Here it is!" Ianto suddenly shouted, "The golden book of Amun-Ra is in the statue of Horus."

"Horus," Jack pondered, "which is next to-"

"The statue of Anubis," Dr. Bey answered.

"Hold on, are we talking about the statue of Anubis _back_ in Hamanaptra?" Jack moaned, "You don't mean-"

Ianto gave him a smile, but it was slightly stiff, "We have to go back, we have to go back to Hamanaptra."

With that, the door suddenly burst open as the swarm of infected people plowed through, trampling over each other in their haste to enter.

"I take it back. Anywhere but here sounds swell right about now." Jack said. "Let's motor."

That said, they took off in the direction Owen and Tosh had gone, the cries of the poor plague ridden people following after them.

* * *

Owen Harper never fancied himself a coward, but neither would he call himself brave. He prided himself on one thing and one thing only, his resourcefulness. A certain quick-thinking adaptability, no matter how dire the situation.

But as he exited the museum into the parking lot, he found himself facing a situation so dire it challenged even _his_ deep reserve of quick-thinking sufficiency. A group of crazed, drooling people, arms outstretched and skin glistening with boils. They came at him, chanting the same word-that blasted name _Imhotep,_ over and over again.

Seeing Tosh behind him, Owen knew he had to think fast-for both their sakes. He turned halfway to Tosh and murmured, "Follow my lead, yeah?"

Tosh raised a brow as Owen, skidding right to a stop in front of her, thrust his arms out and joined in the chanting.

"Imhotep- Imhotep- Imhotep."

"What on earth are you-?"

"Trust me-" he hissed back. "Best join in too."

Tosh gave him a pointed look, but there was a small amount of amusement he hadn't seen on her usually stoic face as she joined in as well, both pretending to be part of the crowd, repeating the name _Imhotep_ in time with the others. They pretend to be marching forward with the rest, but in fact stayed in place, waiting for the mass to move on without them.

Giddy at his own improvisation, Owen turned and grinned at Tosh who raised a brow but smiled back-and they both took off in the direction of the garage. The Duesenberg was thankfully still sitting there and as Own fired up the engine, Tosh sliding up next to him, he u-turned the convertible and drew up alongside the side door of the museum.

Seconds slid by-which turned to minutes and Owen was getting nervous. Tosh placed a comforting hand on his arm, clenched tight on the wheel. "They'll show, your leader is one resilient man and he seems to care very much for your Mr. Jones. They'll make it."

Just as he saw items begin to fall from the windows above, ancient relics being hurled by the diseased crowd which had finally infiltrated the museum, the door burst open and Jack Harkness, Ianto in tow with the curator and Daniels taking up the rear, all came running at them.

The four men piled in, Ianto, Daniels and Dr. Bey in the back, while Jack hopped in next to Tosh. Owen hit the gas and floored it. Before they could make it very far, Jack noticed a shape in the mirror beside him. It was a man in a red coat-pointing at them, alerting someone of their presence.

Jack turned and looked sharply back, but John was already gone.

The car peeled out and its passengers, primarily Daniels and Ianto, could both feels eyes on them. They turned and saw a dark shadow of a tall, imposing figure appear in one of the shattered second story windows. He reached out as somehow trying to grab them.

A screech, so loud it shook the earth below them, sounded. It was a primordial, horrific yell that seemed to stop every diseased follower for several very long seconds.

"What the hell is he-" Daniels was cut off as, without warning, the crowd grew and swarmed and started racing after them.

"I think he's giving new orders," Ianto said.

The plague had infected the city. Everywhere they turned more followers seemed to be swarming around them. Boils and sores and eyes a blank milky white, they weren't just following. They were ahead, behind, and on all sides of them. The diseased were everywhere.

Owen had long since lost any kind of direction and it was, with a mounting group in front of him, that the car became stuck. With the growing mass in front and behind him, there was nowhere else to go.

"What are you doing?" Jack demanded.

"I-" Owen white gripped the wheel.

"Dammit, plow through 'em!"

Owen hesitated and Jack reached his foot over and punched the pedal. The car leapt forward, ramming into the herd and tossing them aside like bowling pins. The mass of deranged disciples didn't slow one bit and Jack continued to plow through the bodies, using his Webley on anyone who tried to claw their way in. They were greatly outnumbered-the entirety of a city against six people-and they were slowed from the extra weight of the attempted stowaways and somehow in the madness of grabbing hands and the swerving vehicle, Daniels was pulled out of the car.

Ianto was halfway out the car reaching for him, but it was too late. "Jack! They've got him," he shouted. "They've got Daniels!"

Daniels meanwhile, tumbled across the pavement where he landed with a thud. He looked up both frightened and alarmed to see a nearly fully formed face, handsome and regal, regarding him. Imhotep was upon him. Daniels offered the man his jar, hoping maybe a show of good will would save his life. He received a smile, but not the mercy he had so hoped for. Imhotep took the last jar and the rest of Daniels and was whole again.

* * *

The vehicle and the group that had just become five, was still trying to plow through the mindless sea of zombies when a blood curdling, hair raising scream interrupted the mindless chanting of the boil-blistered army attacking them. The pause gave Owen the encouragement to hit the gas and he charged through the distracted minions, steering around the corner, in what he hoped would be their freedom. Instead, the vehicle lost traction and headed straight into a stone water fountain, completely immobilizing the convertible.

Yep, Owen could definitely never complain about Jack's driving ever again.

"C'mon! C'mon! Let's go! Let's go!" Jack said and the five of them jumped from the car.

But there was nowhere to go.

They were encircled by the blank eyed, slack jawed faces of Imhotep's followers. They didn't attack the group, but lay ready for the command, torches and weapons just waiting to pounce.

The mob parted as the pounding of two boots walked casually through them. John Hart smirking like a cat that'd just eaten a rather deliciously fat bird. "Well that was a fun little chase, wasn't it? Worthy of any decent Hollywood picture, don't you think?"

"Of all the stupid, idiotic and half-assed things you've ever done-"

"Trust me Jack, this doesn't even come close. You know that," John swept a hand. "This is child's play."

"Jack, what is he-" Ianto asked.

"Don't listen to him, he's insane."

"Only in a good way, I assure you," John winked at Ianto.

Then from behind John came the mummy-turned man, the downright exquisite, perfectly tanned and toned body of Imhotep, the ex-high priest of Egypt.

The man was a sight to behold.

"He's fully regenerated," Dr. Bey said miserably. "He cannot be stopped. We've failed."

"You're a cup half empty sort of chap, aren't you?" Owen commented.

Imhotep was tall and regal as he strode forward, outstretching his hand as he spoke to Ianto in a language Jack couldn't understand.

"He wants you to come with him," John translated.

Imhotep took another step closer, but this time Ianto moved closer to Jack, who quickly pushed the other man behind him.

"Listen pal, I'm all for the whole sexy six pack and open robe thing you've got going on, but this one-he's off limits. Go find yourself another guyto paw at, this one's taken."

The mummy ignored Jack, still reaching for Ianto behind him.

"Koontash dai na."

"Take his hand and he will spare the others," John said. He put a finger to his lip _,_ smirking right at Jack, "Now this is predicament, isn't it? How does that saying go again? _The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one_ -something like that."

Ianto gulped, "Any bright ideas?" he asked Jack.

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking."

Imhotep stood smugly, arms crossed and proud, looking nothing short of a god.

"Jack-" Ianto's voice took a familiar tone Jack really didn't want to hear right now. "Jack, I think-"

"No," Jack almost shouted back, latching further onto Ianto's sleeve, "We'll think of something."

"Jack," Ianto lightly touched his arm, "Jack, let me go with him. You know where I'll be, you can-"

"Are you _bloody_ mad?" Owen said. "That thing wasn't even human a day ago. He's a _bloody_ reanimated corpse."

"I'm aware Owen, but John's right. I can't let any more innocent people get hurt because of me."

"So is that a yes, eye candy?"

Ianto glared at John, "Yes."

Ianto's blue eyes glistened in the torchlight and he turned back to Jack, till their lips almost touched, as he murmured, "Come find me, Captain Jack Harkness. Because I swear if you let that _thing_ turn me into a mummy, you're the first one I'm coming after." Then he moved the extra inch forward and kissed Jack fully.

The kiss was like the spark to a wildfire.

Now it was Ianto's turn to feel the rush, the strike of lightning hitting him, a jolt up his spine as his eyes snapped open, regarding Jack with the most confused of expressions, "Jack!?"

Jack could have wept for joy; finally there was the recognition in those baby blues he'd needed since this whole thing had started. Unfortunately, Ianto's memory couldn't have returned at a worse moment. There was familiarity in that gaze, but there was also fear as Ianto was pulled by a rather angry looking Imhotep, right out of Jack's grasp. The two immediately disappeared back in the crowd.

Jack lunged forward screaming the younger man's name, but the crowd was too thick and too deep and he couldn't see past them. Ianto and his captor-they were gone.

"I'll take your lovely little trinket now," John reached a hand out to Owen, a revolver in the other, "The box if you will."

Owen glowered, but handed over the golden box.

"You planned this, didn't you?" Jack reared forward grabbing at John, "Didn't you?"

John merely rolled his eyes.

"I'll kill you," Jack spat, "I'll-"

"I don't think so," John placed the gun right at Jack's temple, "I know it won't kill you-not permanently anyway, but it'll slow you down a bit. Your team won't be so lucky, but they're not really my concern, now are they? I tried to help and all you've done is push me away. Now they're going to die because of you-" John pulled the trigger.

He didn't finish his shot as Tosh came at him, throwing John's aim. Jack took the opportunity to disarm John, pointing the gun back at the shorter man. "You were saying?"

"Goddammit," John growled. He threw his hands to the crowd, which had been silent and unmoving till now, "Don't just stand there. Kill them!" He glanced back at Jack with a small smile, "Sorry, boss's orders."

" _Bloody_ monster was lying the whole time. He was going to kill us regardless," Owen snapped.

"That surprises you?" Tosh asked.

Then the horde was upon them.

Tosh spotted the manhole beneath them, "Jack," she motioned to the cover. "Down here."

Jack removed the cover, motioning the small group to jump inside.

"What about Ianto?" Owen asked.

"We'll save him," Jack said. "Now get the hell down there."

Owen went down first. Tosh watched the curator who had brandished his sword to fight the incoming crowd and said. "I should-"

"Get down in the hole, I agree," Jack shoved her down behind Owen. "Come on pops, you're up next."

"Go on!" Dr. Bey yelled at him. "Go save Ianto. Go save us all."

"Doctor, don't play the martyr. Get in the-"

"Go goddammit! Go!" And with that, the man disappeared into the crowd. Jack called his name, but the man didn't respond and the army of followers was too thick to see through. " _Dammit_." Not wanting the man's sacrifice to be in in vain, Jack jumped down the hole last, giving a silent thanks to the man's bravery.

Now, Jack thought as his feet fell into the sewer sludge below, they needed to fix this mess.

"We have to get him back," Jack said. No if ands or buts, they had to get Ianto back.

"He will take him back to Hamanaptra to perform the ritual," Tosh said.

Owen paused in his wiping sludge from his jacket, "What's that-did you say ritual?"

Jack swallowed, "What kind of ritual are we talking about?"

"The ritual to bring the body of his dead lover back to life."

Owen swallowed, "And how does one do that exactly?"

"By reading the Book of the Dead."

Owen nodded, "Naturally-"

"And then killing your friend."

"Killing-yes right-" Owen's mouth dropped. "Killing!?"

Tosh continued to Jack, "Imhotep is now able to cross the desert with great haste. If we are to save your friend in time we must move, and fast."

Jack nodded, heart racing as he thought of that sick creep touching even one hair on the young Welshman's head. Speed, they needed speed on their side if they were going to stop this monster in time. And what was the fastest way to travel in 1925?

"I know where we have to go. Come on."


	11. Chapter 11

The Royal Air corps was only about five miles out from Fort Stack, but Owen's beat up car still barely made it. In the middle on the rickety runway, with no foreseeable control tower, was one lone plane that stood like an ancient relic, much like its owner. Winston Havlock, the lush from the tavern.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Owen whispered as they neared the man, sat under a giant umbrella with a bottle of opened bourbon beside him.

"Desperate times, Owen." _Really desperate._

It looked like a flying deathtrap if ever Jack saw one.

They stood, he, Owen and Tosh all but begging the giant mustached man to take them to Hamanaptra.

Havlock was frowning in thought-face overly flushed and bright, "So what's your little problem got to do with His Majesty's Royal Air Corp?"

Gunnysack in hand, Jack said, 'The creature we're chasing killed two men at Fort Stack yesterday."

Two bushy eyebrows rose, "Two men you say? And he's taken this young man, this Mr. Jones, with him as well?"

Jack nodded.

"By Jove man, that's kidnapping."

Owen closed his eyes; how had it come to this, their destiny in the hands of a booze-drenched, over aged British fly boy? Basically, it was like _him-_ minus the over aged part _-_ flying the plane. They really were doomed.

"Tell me," Havlock said. "Would you call this mission, dangerous?"

"We'll be lucky to live through it," Jack said.

Havlock beamed at his answer, "By Jove, do you really think so?"

Owen shrugged, "Everybody else we've bumped into has died, why not you?"

"So what's the challenge then?" Havlock asked.

Jack shrugged, "Just your average rescue, kill the bad guy and steal his treasure. Interested?"

Havlock straighten and gave a slightly sloppy salute, "Winston Havlock, at you service. Now which one of you gents, or lady, is coming with me?"

"All of us-"

Havlock shook his head, "Only one vacant seat, I'm afraid."

But that wouldn't do. Jack shook his head, he wasn't splitting the rest of his team, not now, "Sorry _chum_ , but we need everyone-"

Havlock tutted, "Then you'll need a bigger plane, I'm afraid."

"We can share," Owen said indicating himself and Tosh. "We're both small."

Jack stared at him, "And where does that leave me exactly?"

Owen grinned, "There's always the wings, Harkness."

* * *

Ianto Jones fell from the whirlwind of sand, picking himself up slowly, or trying to, before another body came crashing through, dropping on top of him. The second, shorter man landed with a thud, crushing Ianto's ribs and sending the two men rolling in the sand.

They finally landed at the end of the hill of sand, Ianto on top, staring in the light and amused eyes of John Hart. The scene was familiar (minus one flying dinosaur and talk of suits and coats), but not in a way Ianto wanted to remember with this man, who was most definitely _not_ Jack Harkness.

"You!"

John sneered, "Me! Good to have you back, eye candy."

"You did this," Ianto accused angrily. "All of it. You brought us here." To Egypt, to a time they didn't belong, and worse he'd made a _bloody_ mess while doing it.

John eyed him, "You really want to play the blame game, Mr. Egyptologist. _I'm_ not the one who raised the three thousand year old walking, talking corpse."

Ianto glared, lips pursed. "No, but you are the reason we're here in the first place. Just couldn't keep your hands to yourself, could you?"

"Never could I'm afraid." John wiggled underneath him, "So tell me, is that a gun in those trousers, or are you just happy to see me?"

"Piss off," Ianto snapped. He looked around, mind still whirling from the actual whirlwind and the bringing back of his true self. "So what's going on then?" It was all a bit fuzzy.

"You're on top bright eyes, you tell me."

Ianto gave a disgusted sigh and removed himself from atop John, dusting sand off his shirt and trousers.

John sighed at his actions, "Well to make a long story short, you've just acquired yourself a new boyfriend, and let's just say he puts the term cradle robber to shame."

"How did we get here?" Ianto pointed at the sand beneath them, "I remember sand and then-"

John dug some pebbles from his ear, "It's his transporting method. He likes to use sand, don't ask me why."

"You mean like that?" Ianto pointed.

A little ways off, the swirling particles of dust seemed to be condensing, forming, fashioning something in the sand. Ianto watched as the sand seemed to transform, textures shifting and changing until the regal form known as Imhotep, formerly the rotted corpse of a mummy, stepped forth.

"Bugger." He was kind of hoping this was all just a bad dream, that he'd wake up in Jack's arms and they would laugh this off together.

Unfortunately, the man before him was very real and as he walked towards him, Ianto couldn't stop staring at his cold, hard eyes and muscular frame. Then his eyes shifted, the scenery it was all a bit- _familiar_.

"Oh god, we're back."

Hamanaptra, the city of the dead, they were back.

"Apparently, Prince Charming has plans for you."

Ianto turned to John, "What kind of plans?"

"I don't want to ruin the surprise, but I do hope you're not squeamish," John smirked.

Ianto's eyes widened, "What?"

Then a biplane swooped in overhead, its engine sounding its presence loudly in the air.

"Jack-" Ianto's eyes lit up. "That has to be Jack."

John shaded his eyes against the sun, "He really doesn't know when to give up, does he?"

"He's not a coward, like some people I can think of," Ianto said.

John snorted, "You really have no idea about the _real_ Jack, do you?"

"Are you sure it's not _you_ who doesn't know him?" Ianto countered.

"Trust me eye candy, I could tell you stories about your precious Jack that would keep you up for days."

The plane came closer and Ianto could see the anger darkening the mummy's face. He scowled at the sky and once again unhinged his jaw, emitting a hideous screech and battle cry that seemed to cause the sand to awake at his command. A sheet of sand rose from the dessert, right in the path of the biplane.

"Stop it!" Ianto shouted at him. "You'll kill them."

Imhotep grabbed him and Ianto froze as he stared up into those intensely hard eyes, beautiful, but deadly. Then he kissed Ianto, _hard_. This time there was no slime, just two firm lips that invaded Ianto's own, forcefully. Then he laughed as Ianto pulled away, disgusted.

"I think that's the point," John mumbled.

In the biplane, Jack had just noticed the desert virtually coming to life, looking to attack them. He held on for dear life, though he knew he'd come back, he didn't exactly want to see how long or hard it would be to regenerate if he fell to the ground below (or into the damn propeller for that matter). Havlock threw the throttle back, "Hold on men!"

The sandstorm chased the diving, twisting biplane, getting closer and closer, ready to engulf it. Jack looked back into the blinding sand, noticing the sand was forming a shape in the sandstorm. A face. It was a damn face, and it was grinning at them. The giant face began to laugh, its jaw unhinging, mouth widening to swallow the small plane.

Winston blindly fought for control, elated, "We're going down."

Perhaps choosing a drunk, suicidal pilot hadn't been one of Jack's better ideas.

Down below, Ianto paced, watching the scene, yet unable to do anything. The plane was going to crash! Imhotep was locked in concentration, arms outstretched to the sky and Ianto could think of only one way to break his concentration.

He strode up to the handsome mummy, grabbed him by the arms and pulled him to him. Ianto licked his lips, hooding his eyes in what he hoped was an alluring way and kissed the taller man full on the lips. The man drew away at first, then he gazed into Ianto's eyes and his surprise turned to lust as he kissed Ianto, deeply, hungrily.

John flicked an eyebrow in surprise.

Unaware that the interruption had dropped his wall of sand, the mummy deepened his kissing as the biplane emerged into a clear sky, still spinning, yet still managing to drop into the valley of Hamanaptra. Safe from anymore sand the mummy could throw at it.

Ianto pulled away with a smug smirk as he watched the plane make it safely inside the city. Imhotep's face turned from confusion to full on rage as Ianto did nothing to hide his triumph at having been a distraction. "Serves you right." he told the man with a sneer. The backhand he received was fierce and hurt like hell, but Ianto was expecting it and only smiled at the man's growing anger.

Then the man rose up and grabbed Ianto fiercely by the arm, muttering to himself in a language Ianto no longer understood. As he pulled him along, nearly yanking Ianto's arm from its socket, the words got shorter and angrier and Ianto was almost glad he didn't know what the man was saying.

The plane landed belly side up, a little worse for wear but still in one piece. Jack wasn't sure when or how he awoke, but judging from the look of shock on Owen's face when he did, and the rushing feeling of oxygen escaping his lungs, he must have bitten the bullet along the way.

 _Again._

Owen's eyes bugged, "But you were," he pointed and fumbled. "I could have _bloody_ sworn you were-" He looked around as if searching for something, his sanity perhaps, "-you were dead."

Jack smiled weakly, "Seems I got better."

Owen remained alarmed. "You had no pulse, I _bloody_ checked. I thought for sure you were-"

"Yeah well, you're not a doctor are you?" Jack asked with the greatest hint of irony. He rose to his feet, dusting himself off.

Owen slowly shook his head, "No but-"

Jack grabbed his shoulder, "I'm fine Owen," he assured with his most charming smile, "must have just really hit my head. Where's Tosh?"

The woman appeared, took one glance at Jack, and tightened her lips, "I thought you said he was dead?" she asked Owen mildly.

"I did-he was!" Owen shouted and threw up his hands to Tosh's brow of disbelief. " _Sod_ it all, I don't know anymore!"

Jack almost felt sorry for him, "How's the Captain?" he asked Tosh, changing the subject.

Tosh's face was somber. Jack joined her by the smoking cockpit and could see the mustached man's neck had snapped on impact. With a huge smile on his face the man had clearly gone out in a way of his preferred choosing.

"Poor sod," Owen lamented. "Crazy as a loon, but alright in the end."

The sand beneath the plane began to shift inward like a vortex and the vessel started to sink into the ground.

"Quicksand," Tosh warned them.

The team of three ran from the site, watching as the plane was slowly swallowed into the earth below.

Jack threw the plane and its eccentric captain a salute and nodded the other two on towards the ruins that lay sprawled out before them. _Time for round three of this damned place_ , he thought. And time to get back Mr. Jones, Ianto Jones.

* * *

It was as if they'd left the site hours ago not days. The rope still dangled into the crevice near the open shrine by Anubis. Jack knew the mummy had beaten them here, that the handsome, but crazed man was already underground, preparing to raise his dead lover at the expense of Ianto Jones' life.

They dropped back into the embalming chamber and Jack clapped his hands while speaking to his team, "Okay, now what the hell does this Horus guy look like?"

Owen motioned two fingers atop his head, "He's a big fellow with pointy ears and a face like a falcon."

Jack nodded, "Got it," he stopped at a sudden thought. "Can either of you read from the book once we find it? Ianto may not be in any condition to." Or more likely the man wouldn't be able to, not anymore.

"I've had some training," Owen said stiffly.

"Is that a yes or a no, Owen?"

"I can definitely- _possibly_ -read it."

Jack winced, Ianto's fate was resting on a wishy-washy Owen's translating abilities, not exactly comforting, but what other option did they have?

They made their way through the chamber, eventually reaching a narrow, winding staircase, heading right into the dark depths of the city. The stairway looked to be reaching right into the bowels of hell itself.

They finally reached the bottom, moving across the sandy-covered floor. _Falcon head_ , Jack told himself, they needed a statute with a falcon head-the twin to Anubis. Unfortunately, they reached a dead end, a passageway which had caved in on itself.

Jack just knew, despite the rubble blocking them, they needed to get through it. "We need to clear this," He said to the other two. They did, slowly but surely and with each second that passed Jack became more and more worried, they were taking too much time. Ianto could already be-

No.

Upon clearing the blocked path something on the wall caught Owen's attention. A grouping of glittering purple gems arranged in the shape of a scarab. The shimmering jewels looked prime for the picking and Owen, not knowing, or rather not thinking, plucked one in between his thumb and forefinger and dropped it onto his open palm. He moved it to and fro, watching as the gem sparkled, memorized, "I say, take a look at this-it's quite..."

And then the scarab stone broke open of its own accord and suddenly a real beetle was wriggling from the quartz cocoon.

Owen yelped, trying to toss the disgusting insect away, but the vicious thing had already begun to burrow into and _under_ his flesh.

"Dear god, get it out!" Owen screamed, dancing in pain.

Whirling around, Jack's eyes widened, "The hell?"

Tosh raced into action, grabbing her blade and ordering Jack, "Hold him."

Reaching behind, Jack grasped Owens waist, holding him in place.

Tosh ripped the sleeve of Owen's shirt, where they could all see something was burrowing up the poor man's arm. They could see it, running right under the skin-a bubble of moving flesh.

"Get it out-get it _fucking_ out!" Owen shouted hysterically.

If he hadn't been hysterical with pain, Owen might have screeched at Tosh's blade as it sliced through, cutting the flesh and stopping the beetles' progress. Digging in with the tip, Tosh flicked the insect onto the sandy floor, covered in Owen's blood.

The black bug wasn't finished though and it scurried its way back towards Owen, intent to finish its job. This time it was Jack's turn for action as he grabbed his Webley and blew the nasty little bastard to what looked like a big blob of jelly.

Owen's eyes bugged and he looked unusually pale, "Cheers," he said to them both, seemingly ready to faint at any second.

Jack snickered, but it seemed completely out of place. Fainting at the sight of blood, Owen would have had kittens if he could see himself now.

Tosh used the discarded sleeve to stanch the bleeding. Her voice was low and surprisingly soothing, "It's not bad, just superficial. You'll be fine."

Owen gave a weak smile, "You're a top notch gal Tosh, you know that?"

Tosh returned the smile, "Fool," she said fondly.

"Do us all a favor," Jack said. "From now on don't touch anything unless I tell you too, k _apesh_?"

Owen nodded, a bit sheepishly, and they continued on their way. No doubt this was only the beginning of more horrors to come.

* * *

John Hart was in the back of the three man procession, Imhotep leading the way and eye candy sandwiched in the middle. They were already deep in the catacombs heading for the necropolis, where three thousand years ago Imhotep and his lover had both died.

Romantic to some, but John had been there, heard that, and written the _bloody_ book.

Imhotep's black robe flowed before him and Ianto was surprisingly not as frightened as he probably should have been. All he had to do was keep Imhotep interested in him long enough to stall, until Jack and the others came to find him. The one unfortunate side of this was they could no longer communicate as Ianto didn't know ancient Egyptian anymore and he had no clue what the mummy was saying.

Ahead of him, Imhotep held his torch aloft, the massive hinged book of the Dead under one arm. They approached a stone slab that served as a bridge over a moat of black liquid that reminded Ianto of oil.

John knocked his revolver once again into Ianto's back and the taller man looked back at him with disdain, "You know Jack is never going to forgive you for this."

John shrugged, "He might be mad, but trust me, he'll get over it. He always does."

A flicker of uncertainty flashed over Ianto's face and he looked forward again, "You won't get away with this."

"Au contraire, I believe _you're_ the one who won't be getting away from this."

The small group reached a deep, cave like chamber with a smooth, stone floor. The room tinted orange as Imhotep glided around, lighting the torches attached to the walls. While the room had a somewhat majestic feel to it, Ianto couldn't help noticing the imposing looking stone slab in the middle of the room. He would call it some kind of ancient work table, but something told him it had a much darker purpose than that. It was decorated quite beautifully, in a morbid sort of way, with winged scarabs, cobras' heads and rams' horns.

Despite its dark beauty, the slab was not a reassuring sight in the least.

A gunshot echoed into the room and Ianto's heart beat with renewed faith. Jack, it had to be him, Tosh and Owen too. They were somewhere nearby, they had to be.

Imhotep scowled at the sound. Face twisted with rage, he reached into a jar atop the slab in the middle of the room and pulled out the decayed remain of a human heart. He gazed upon it reverently, before he crushed the organ, grinding it to powder.

"Harsh," John noted.

Imhotep strode to a wall in the chamber, reading an ancient incantation from the Book of the Dead. Then he blew on his hand, scattering the dust upon the wall-

-upon contact, things began to squirm, coming alive.

From behind the crumbling walls came two living mummies, exactly like something out of a horror movie. They stumbled toward the ex-high priest and bowed.

Imhotep pointed at them and shouted something in Egyptian and the horrible creatures marched purposefully away.

Jack, Owen and Tosh, he'd sent those two horrors upon them, Ianto was sure of it.

Satisfied, Imhotep swept to the slab and reached inside his robe. He retrieved, as if by magic, one jar after another and set them gingerly atop the stone surface. As he arranged them in a row, his dialect changed from Egyptian to what Ianto swore was Hebrew.

He turned to John, because there was no one else he could really communicate with, "What is he doing?"

John shrugged casually, looking at his nails in disinterest, "Preparing, I suppose."

"Preparing?" Ianto swallowed against a boulder sized lump. "Preparing for what?"

"Well I guess the cat's out of the bag," John said. "You see eye candy, Imhotep here wants more than just your heart."

Ianto watched as Imhotep began to rearrange the jars, chanting softly to himself. His stomach was suddenly filled with thousands of sharp knives as John continued.

"In fact, he'd quite like to see the rest of you too. For instance; your brain, your liver, your kidneys-damn, what's the last one-"

"Intestines," Ianto offered weakly.

John's eyes lit, "You have been paying attention. _Bravo_."

Suddenly it hit the Welshman, exactly what the cold looking slab actually was. An altar. He was going to be sacrificed!

"That's it?" Ianto looked at the mummy with contempt, "You only want me for my _bloody_ organs?"

Imhotep moved toward him, looking him up and down as he did. A leer in his toothy smile. Ianto didn't expect the blow this time. It was savage and brutal and he felt the ring in his ears even as the darkness came upon him. He didn't hear or see himself being picked up and moved, nor did he hear two more gunshots go off.


	12. Chapter 12

Jack and his two man team were moving through the cleared passageway when he spotted a crevice in the wall just big enough for a man to pass through. Holding his torch, he saw something gleam from within. Jack prompted the others and squeezing through, they entered to another chamber.

From up above Jack noticed a shaft of light. It seemed familiar somehow. He withdrew his Webley and aimed precisely up through the darkness and fired. His bullet caught the pedestal of what turned out to be another set of mirror discs. The ancient lighting system saturated the chamber with a reflective beam that lit the entirety of the room.

"Hell," Owen exclaimed at the sight. "Will you look at that?"

For indeed the room was filled with what looked like the entire wealth of Egypt. Gleaming, giant piles of gems and treasures, items of immeasurable value were spread out before them in mountains of gold.

"It's true. Seti's treasure," Tosh gasped. "It does exist."

Jack wasn't nearly as impressed, because right behind them, two rather grotesque looking undead _things_ were coming right for them.

"I'm guessing they're the welcoming party," Jack said

Tosh's eyes darkened, "Followers of Imhotep, returned from the dead to do his foul bidding."

"Foul is right," Jack said, blasting away with the elephant gun, blowing through the upper torso of one, pumping, then the hitting the other. The smoke cleared and instead of falling, the two sets of legs kept walking forward, completely unaffected by the loss of their torsos.

"You've got to be kidding me," Jack snarled. He reloaded and blasted again and again, until the sons of bitches were nothing but a few wiggling fragments, which he squashed under his boots.

Owen had backed away into a golden throne, "Don't see that every day," he said.

If only you knew, Jack thought.

The floor beneath them began to rumble and a decomposed hand burst through the stone.

"Fantastic," Jack quipped. "I thought for sure there just _had_ to be more."

Owen, who was grasping the throne as if it were some kind of savior, watched as two new mummies erupted from the floor, lumbering toward them. "Don't suppose anyone brought a bag of cats with them?"

Jack readied his gun and Tosh grabbed one of her own, but the mummies didn't stop at two. More were coming, more and more and more. It was fast becoming a bit uneven in numbers and Jack knew a needed retreat when he saw one, "Screw this." He took off, the other two following right behind him.

The mummies continued after them, more emerging by the second, and Jack swore they were getting faster. He, Tosh and Owen ran down the passage at a neck breaking pace before finally reaching a small chamber where, _fortunes of fortunes_ , a falcon-headed statue loomed above them.

"Horus, you sly bastard," Owen said, summoning a mildly crazed smile. "Just the man I wanted to see."

"We're surrounded," Tosh shouted.

Mummies, they were trying to pry their way in through the small passageway. Jack reached into his gunnysack, struck with the idea that shooting at these things would take too much ammunition and time. He pulled out a stick of dynamite, lit a match on the wall, hit the flame to the fuse and tossed the stick at the passageway, yelling, "Hit the deck!"

The passageway entrance fell, crushing the mummies and blocking their path.

"Let's see them dig through that," Owen said.

Jack brought his attention back to the important matter of the statue, calling to Tosh, "Keep an eye out for any more of those bastards getting through." He reached into his sack, tossing a crowbar at Owen, "Help me get this damn thing off, will you?"

Neither man seemed to remember the acid trap the diggers had encountered days earlier. They set about pulling the slab from the statue.

* * *

Ianto awoke abruptly, as if pulled from a nightmare, with a shuddering gasp. At first his mind was deceptively dark on where he was, only that something hard and cold was at his back and when he tried to move his arms, he found them bound above his head; unmovable.

Then it all came rushing back; the altar, the mummy, and the crazy man's intent for Ianto's innards.

 _Shit._

He was bound to the altar like a man for the slaughter, arms and ankles shackled and his head hurt something fierce. Despite his wondering why it was that people wanted to tenderize, eat and now dissect him, Ianto still held out hope that Jack and the others would find him. Hopefully, while he still fully intact and not a mummy's ex-lovers body parts supplier.

He was determined to show no fear even as Imhotep's face loomed above him. He wouldn't give this monster the satisfaction of his fright. He turned his head, the only thing he could really move at this point, to the right and his eyes landed on the rotted face of a corpse placed out beside him.

Ianto held back a scream, but just barely, and his wide eyes seemed to amuse Imhotep enough to give a booming chuckle overhead.

The Pharaoh's son, Djoser, Imhotep's dead lover, _dead_ , a dead body, Ianto was strapped next to a _dead,_ decomposed body. He looked away from the grinning face of the dead and pulled at his chains. Despite his hope that three thousand years might have weakened the metal, they held strong. Then he became aware of a chanting, a language so ancient, Ianto was sure he never would have understood it.

The chanting grew louder, stronger and he noticed the shambling shapes emerging from the darkness into the orange glow from the torches. They shuffled towards the altar, surrounding him and the corpse of Imhotep's dead lover.

The man himself, the mummy-Imhotep, whatever he referred to himself as, held the Book of the Dead in one hand as if it were weightless. The man raised his hand as if to caress him and Ianto recoiled, but instead the hand tenderly touched the decayed cheek of the Pharaoh's son.

The mummy began to read from the book and John, who watched the scene passively, noticed a black thick fog seemed to ooze from the air, passing through him and the army of mummies surrounding the altar, and moving up onto the altar itself. Something stirred at the sight, though John wasn't sure what to call in quite yet.

Ianto felt, not so much saw, the black cloud as it swept through him and settled onto the corpse, enveloping its grey form and disappearing into the empty sockets of its face.

Then, in a scene Ianto was sure he'd seen in a horror movie once or twice, the dead man's mouth opened and gasped for air.

Which was about the point Ianto lost it completely, he struggled wildly, whipping his head back and forth; as if he could somehow will himself off this accursed slab, but to no avail. His blood ran cold when he saw the gleam of a blade, a sacrificial knife clutched in Imhotep's hands, raised high above him, directly over his heart.

More words were proclaimed in the ancient language and Ianto could only watch in horror as the dagger was about to be brought down upon him.

* * *

Minutes earlier, in the small chamber housing Horus, Jack and Owen worked fervently at removing the slab, a crowbar at each end. The panel was just about to pry loose when-

"Backups here!" Tosh called.

Jack and Owen dashed up to join her at the mouth of the passageway down which more mummies were coming toward them.

Jack grabbed his elephant gun, better he get killed by a bunch of mummies first and give the others a chance to escape if they had to, "Go get that book, keep digging!"

Tosh and Owen returned to the statue's base where they both worked to remove the panel. "Alright Tosh, on the count of three. One, two, thr-shit!"

Owen glanced down in terror at the skeletal hand clutching his ankle, a mummy's hand that had burst up from the sandy floor.

Tosh backed away from the stone, "They're everywhere."

Indeed several bony hands began coming up from the ground. The hands were followed by arms and legs, all horribly bandaged and grasping at the three.

Jack came to join them, determined to pull the panel free and get the _goddamned_ book already. He was stopped by a rather large mummy, who stood directly in the path of where the book rested, refusing to move. Another mummy moved behind him, seemingly to pry the slab off itself.

They didn't just want to kill them, Jack realized, they wanted the book too.

The panel fell off and for its efforts the mummies in front and nearby were splashed with the same acid steam bath that had been inside Anubis. The mummies all melted like half used candles on contact with the mist.

"Well, that was-" Owen cringed. "Lucky."

Jack shot Owen a look and knelt. He withdrew the chest inside, an ornately beautiful wooden treasure box.

"Let's hope it's not-" Jack frantically threw the cover open and Owen finished lamely. "Booby trapped."

A burlap sack that obviously housed something large was pulled from the chest. Jack and Owen exchanged anxious looks and taking a breath, Jack tentatively removed the sack. He saw a small peak of gold and tossed the rest off with a grin.

"The Book of Amun-Ra," Owen breathed.

"About time you two, we need a way out." Tosh said as she frantically gestured to the two doorways which were both blocked by a sea of mummies.

Jack dug in his sack and found one single last stick of dynamite.

"Better make it count." Owen nodded to him.

Looking around, he found the furthest wall he could and striking a match once more, tossed the sizzling stick at it. Just as more mummies managed to squeeze through the crowded passageways, Jack called after his team and the three of them made their way to the new entrance, courtesy of the giant hole from the explosion.

They cut down a passageway, then another, and another. Mostly Jack was just guessing his destination, and running pretty much blind. They almost ran through an archway when a sound from inside stopped them short. Jack motioned the other two to stay against the wall and peeked in. Chanting, weird odd chanting that was more than a little creepy was coming from down below a giant staircase.

At the bottom was a sight Jack was immediately sickened by. His eyes first found John's red coat, but he moved on to the circle of mummies gathered around what looked to be an altar of some kind. And on top he saw a dried up corpse that was definitely moving and the familiar form of his favorite Welshman struggling to fight against his restraints.

And approaching, like the snake that he was, Imhotep held a dagger in his hand. Even from here, Jack could tell the man was grinning.

Owen managed to see around Jack and he gasped, "Good Christ, he really is going to kill him."

Jack shook his head, eyeing an adjacent passageway, which took a steep downward path, "No he's not. You two go attract some attention. I'm going to find the back way in."

Before Owen could argue, Jack disappeared into the dark passage below.

* * *

Ianto waited for the blade to fall, to slice right through his heart and kill him. He waited and waited and waited.

What he didn't see was John Hart, walking through the mummies, boots crunching against the stone floor. Imhotep's face darkened as the man approached.

"If I may," John said, raising a revolver to the ancient mummy. "I really don't think you want to do that." He'd seen Jack, or rather sensed the man from up above. And truth be told Ianto's words _had_ affected him. True Jack would get over Ianto's death eventually, but John shuddered to think about how long that might take. And there was always the possibility that Jack would turn loose the killer John knew he could be. What if Jack actually killed him in some kind of homicidal grief?

John suddenly felt it wasn't worth the risk, and this whole mummy slave business had become a bit of a bore anyway.

He aimed the gun just as Owen Harper came rushing down the stairs. Apparently John wasn't the only one playing distraction.

"Ianto," Owen called, "Good news, I've got the book. I've got-" he stopped short at seeing John with his gun raised at the mummy. "Did I miss something?"

Imhotep placed the knife gently on the altar and turned, moving towards the staircase and Owen. John shot off a blast from his revolver. "Don't think you're getting away that easy."

The mummy let loose a horrible sound, and with a wave of his hand, he set his army of mummies upon John.

At the top of the stairs Tosh joined Owen, sword ready in hand. Owen tugged at the book before they both realized-they needed the key, the key that John had taken earlier.

"I need the key. I need the _bloody_ key!" Owen shouted.

John chose that moment to reach into his pocket, where he'd hidden the golden box after Imhotep had opened the book, "Here bright eyes, catch." He tossed the box and it was bit too high for Owen, but thankfully Tosh's small hands caught it.

The creature was still moving up the stairs at Owen and Tosh, grinning up at them gruesomely; coming closer and closer-

"What do I do, Ianto!? What do I do!?"

Tosh grabbed the book and clicked the lock, opening the book for him, "Read something-" she shouted to him.

Owen tried, really he did, but he'd been exaggerating a bit when he said he knew Egyptian hieroglyphs, "Keetash-something," he mumbled, " _bloody hell_ I can't-"

"Owen, please try harder," Tosh begged. "He's getting closer."

That was when Ianto felt something at his side. The satisfying clang of a sword swipe filled his ears as the blade snapped the metal on his wrists, then his ankles, and the cold restraints fell away. Jack Harkness' grinning face filled his view; he wagged a brow, "Miss me?"

Ianto sat up and swept off the slab, he gave a small smile, "You have no idea."

"Crazy shit we end up in, yeah?"

Ianto shrugged and brushed himself off, "No crazier than usual."

Jack could have kissed him, "That's what I love about you, Ianto Jones. I've missed that sense of humor."

"And here I was thinking it was all about the suits-"

Jack's grin grew, "Certainly does help."

"If you two are quite finished," John said, amid trying to ward off several mummies, "You might want to take a look at the _goddamn_ mummy on the stairs."

Imhotep's face was pure fury and rage at seeing Ianto's freedom and even more so at seeing Jack. He bellowed a command and more mummies, including the ones already attacking John, rushed upon them.

Owen meanwhile was still valiantly trying to translate, what he didn't realize was what he was translating was a curse, "Rasheem-ooloo-Kasha!" he proclaimed. "That's it, I've got it!"

Midway on the steps, Imhotep's face went from fury to amusement; he folded his arms boastfully and bellowed a loud resounding laugh. It took them all a moment to realize why the man was so humored.

A pair of doors flew open, the clanking sound of marching feet- _soldiers_ -sounded throughout the room. Ten soldiers marched through the doorway, spears and swords clutched in their bony hands. They were armed and ready.

Ready to kill.

"Oops," Owen gulped.

The ten soldiers came to a stop just past the doors, standing at attention, like any good army, awaiting their next command. Jack watched them tiredly- _more of these damn things_ -and Ianto sighed. "And here I thought Owen couldn't read Egyptian."

Imhotep strode down the staircase, pointing toward Jack and Ianto, bellowing a command in his native language.

"I don't think we need to know what that means to know it's not good."

"Very observant, sir. As usual."

"I try." Jack called back to Owen as the soldiers began toward them, "Do something will you? You've got the book."

" _Bloody hell_ ," Owen paced along the edge. "Do what? I don't know-"

"Try reading the rest of the inscription," Ianto threw out. He shrugged at Jack's look, "Maybe it will give us control over them?"

"You think so?" Owen peaked at the idea.

"Just try it," Jack shouted. "What's the worst that can happen?"

"You really want to tempt a question like that, sir?"

The two men backed away, slowly trapping themselves as the mummies headed right toward them. John was still dealing with his own pack and Tosh was helping Owen in his butchered translating.

Not expecting an attack from behind him, Ianto let out a startled cry as a skeletal hand grabbed him. He turned and saw it was the walking corpse of the mummy's lover, and he was aiming the knife from the ritual right at Ianto's heart.

He leaped back into Jack and the corpse missed by only a fraction of an inch. Jack looked at the deranged dead man with surprise, "Got yourself a new admirer, I see. You know you've got him out weighed, right? Might want to use that to your advantage."

"Always with the flattery," Ianto said as he continued to back away. The rotted corpse continued to lumber towards him.

Jack turned back to his own problem, sword in hand, ready to face the ten dead soldiers armed with spears and shields. Then a shot blasted out that sent two of the ten soldiers' torso-less.

John Hart pulled up beside Jack and the other man was too relieved to be angry with him right now. "Need a hand?" John grinned. The two men began shooting and slicing their way through the army of undead creatures.

Ianto bolted and took the crazed dead lover with him, he lead the corpse in a small game of chase across the chamber.

"Ummm, Hootash im... Hootash im now," Owen read clumsily, moving along the moat and trying to ignore the rats invading his space, Tosh following right behind him.

Suddenly the statue of Horus, which Jack had been sidling against to escape the rest of the mummy army, came to life. Imhotep ordered the giant living stone to attack and both John and Jack leaped back as its taloned feet swiped at them. "Faster Owen!" Jack shouted.

The chaos continued as Ianto tried to evade his stalker who swiped at him with the knife and Jack and John ran from the statue turned real that threatened to squish them all.

"Owen please," Tosh said, pleading frantically, "I know you can do this. I believe in you." And with that she kissed him full on the mouth.

Her eyes filled with horror and confusion, as a lifetime of memories that weren't really hers suddenly erased. But Owen was too distracted to notice.

"Hootash im Ahmenophus!" Owen finished, as if Tosh's kiss had given him the answer.

Ianto stopped as everything went still, the army, the mummies, everything ceased to move. Everything expect for his undead follower, who took Ianto's lapse in concentration to lunge at the man's throat. Ianto caught the action just in time and rolled out of the way while pushing the corpse right at the statue of Horus, which was now stone again. The impact sent the statue tumbling forward, crushing the corpse into the ground in a pile of rubble.

The screech of rage and pain that filled the chamber was deafening as Imhotep saw the shattered remains of his love, now nothing but dust on the floor. The mummy's eyes went straight to Owen and in two strides he was upon the man choking him and grabbing the book from his arm. Tosh screamed and Jack knew _his_ Tosh was back.

Armed with the sword, Jack swiped at the mummy's arm that clutched the book. The limb fell to the ground and Imhotep released Owen to turn and glare at Jack. "Let's see how tough you are without your right arm," he boasted.

Imhotep grabbed Jack with his left arm as if he were weightless then threw him halfway across the chamber. Jack slammed into the altar and fell with a blinding flash.

"Jack!" Ianto screamed.

"Appears he's left handed," John said as he shot off another mummy's head.

Ianto rushed to Jack's side, "You okay?"

Jack waved him off, "I'm fine, I'm fine, my back broke my fall," he grimaced. Imhotep's angry steps led him back towards Jack and the mummy pushed Ianto out of the way as Jack grabbed for his discarded sword.

"I've got the book back," Owen called, after clawing the gold volume from the mummy's dismembered hand.

"Then _bloody_ keep reading from it," John shouted at him. "And try not to send anything else looking to kill us, if you don't mind.

Over by the altar, Imhotep stood over Jack, who was finding it a bit hard to get his footing. Ianto pounced on the creature trying to rip him away, but he was pushed away again like a mere bug. John came up next, but he too was thrown to the other side of the chamber, where his head made a resounding crack and he fell limp.

The mummy lifted Jack, cutting off the air to his throat as the man squirmed to get free. He was losing consciousness and all he could think about was his team. What would this monster do to them once he was gone?

Owen stood, book open before him, and with only a slight tremor in his voice he began to read with renewed vigor. Hoping for Jack's sake he wasn't too late. "Kadeesh mal! Kadeesh mal! Pared oos!"

The mummy pivoted, dropping Jack in his haste. This time it wasn't anger or rage or even superiority that filled his face. It was terror.

As Jack finally got to his feet, coughing and choking for air, Ianto rushed to his side and he steadied himself on the younger man's weight. The two men could hear through the archway, a strong sudden gust of wind, but the chilling breeze that swept through was not brought on by the mummy.

Through a vortex of wind emerged a black chariot, misty and transparent, not quite solid, but still very real, the image came charging down the stairs. The wheels and horses hooves never quite reached the ground, its jackal headed driver-Anubis it seemed, was coming for Imhotep.

Imhotep arms were held in surrender to the gruesome figure and the chariot plowed right through him, wrapping back around the chamber, grasping what seemed to be a transparent, spirit like image of Imhotep. His soul. And then the chariot was gone.

Imhotep was left soulless, but still burning with anger. He dashed down the stairs at Jack. Ianto watched on in horror, the man's eyes looked absolutely black without any soul behind them. Jack clutched the sword and without thinking, did the first thing that came instinctively. He swung the blade and caught the man's arm.

Jack expected a smug or enraged look of contempt, but he got neither. Something else spilled from the man, a gasp of pain. The tall mummy reached down and his hands came away bloody. Blood. There was blood spilling from the wound.

"He's human," Ianto gasped from Jack's side in both fascination and horror.

Imhotep's eyes fell and he bowed his head as if defeated. He murmured something in a small and surprisingly humble voice.

Jack didn't buy it, but apparently Ianto did.

The man moved forward, hand outstretched toward the fallen mummy.

Jack frowned.

"Ianto-" If it wasn't Gwen opening her soul to every creature she met, it was Ianto feeling sorry for his would be murderer.

"The man just lost his lover of over three thousand years Jack; he doesn't have anything else to lose."

It wasn't really a surprise so much as an annoyance and an, _I told you so,_ look from Jack when the mummy viciously yanked Ianto to him, holding a knife at his long, pale throat. He murmured something that sounded downright filthy into Ianto's ear.

" _Sod_ it, kill the bastard," Ianto seethed.

"With pleasure," Owen called from behind and the shot of a pistol rang loud and true.

Imhotep's face filled with pain and he choked, eyes wide and unbelieving at the red blossoming from his chest. He started to fall, clutching to Ianto in one last feeble attempt.

"You don't know when to give up, do you?" Jack said. He gave a swift, violent shove that sent the now mortal man flying while pulling his Welshman to him and out of the mummy's grasp. Imhotep rolled and landed in the black fetid swamp that looked like oil where he slowly began to sink. He tried to claw out, but the liquid seemed intent on holding him captive. His face was pain and anger as he glared at Jack and was sucked under by the shimmering blackness.

"Is it finally over?" Owen asked.

As if in reply, Imhotep's face reappeared above the water and he sneered at them, shouting one last phrase that shook the walls around them. Then he was pulled back under, for good this time.

"What did he say?" Tosh asked.

Jack looked to Ianto, but he shook his head. Owen supplied, "I think it might have been something about cooking squirrels, but I doubt it."

None of them knew the threatening words snarled at them. _Death is only the beginning_.

Ianto nudged Jack toward the unconscious John Hart, "You suppose he's dead?"

"As if we should be so lucky," Jack replied, reaching down to scoop the limp man over his shoulder "Come on, let's get the hell out of this place."

"It's a long way back," Ianto said, "Or forward, depending how you look at it."

Jack snapped his fingers, "Wait-Owen I think you should kiss Tosh."

The smaller man balked at Jack, "What? Harkness if that's some kind of sick fantasy of yours-"

"Honestly, it is," Jack admitted with a half smirk, "but really, I need you to test a theory for me."

"Theory, yes I'm sure that's what you'd call it," Owen said, and then he looked at Tosh and shrugged. "Usually I've had at least a shot of bourbon, but whatever, pucker up sweetheart."

"Jack, what are you-"

Jack stopped Ianto and they both watched as an emphatic Owen grabbed a startled Tosh and smacked her right on the lips. It took a moment to see the change and Jack wasn't sure if it was because Owen didn't want to let go or if it really took that long for his memories to come rushing back.

" _Bloody_ hell," Owen jumped back as if he'd been electrocuted. "The _bloody hell_ just happened?"

Jack smiled widely and placed a hand on Ianto's shoulder, "And that my friends is what you call the power of love."

"Are you trying to tell me that all we had to do was kiss each other and we would have been normal again?" Owen demanded.

"Sure looks that way." Jack had forgotten that John had kissed him back in the desert, which must have been when he remembered too. "One of the better ways to solve amnesia if you ask me."

Three exasperated looks were sent his way and Jack Harkness laughed.

Then the room filled with a flash of light that turned the world white.


	13. Chapter 13

Jack awoke, slowly and sleepily to a frantic, wide eyed stare under a fringe of dark bangs. A voice was speaking at him, though in actuality, it was more _screaming_ than talking.

"Gwen-" he croaked her name. The wonderful and beautiful Gwen Cooper, she was- _here_. Or rather, Jack thought as he moved his gaze upward to the familiar surroundings of the archives, they were finally here. Back at the Hub, back at the Torchwood base.

"I leave for a day and find you lot all collapsed when I come back. A girl can't call in one sick day without you deciding to play dead on me-" Her eyes looked misty and Jack reached out to grab her arm.

"Calm down, Gwen. I'm okay we're-" He sat up to look around and was relieved by the sight of his team, rousing and delirious, but all accounted for, "-okay."

"Yeah, well you certainly didn't look okay. I seriously thought you were dead."

Jack smiled at Gwen reassuringly and she helped him up.

"Can we save this cack till after I've had a nice, long bath?" Owen grumbled as he rose and massaged his head. He gave one look at Tosh and his anger seemed to double as he looked to the ground irritably.

"You'll have to excuse Owen," Ianto said. "He and Tosh had a moment and I think he's still a bit shell shocked," he helped Tosh to her feet.

"A moment? And I missed it?" Gwen said with a pout.

"It was not a _bloody_ moment," Owen said. "I've had a sexier time with my _bloody_ post-lady I'll have you know."

"I'll bet you have," Jack smirked.

"Oh come on, Owen," Tosh said, a faint color on her cheeks. "It wasn't that bad."

"It was-" Owen seemed to search for the words, growing irritable he threw up his hands.

Tosh turned away with an unreadable look and Gwen opened her mouth, no doubt to lecture Owen, but Ianto gave her a look and she decided against it.

"We all seem to be safe and sound," Jack pointed out, winking to Ianto. "Organs and all."

"But our clothes are the same as when we left," Tosh noted, realizing she was wearing her jeans and not the gown she'd been in moments before. "Was it a dream?"

"More like a shared hallucination," Ianto said.

"You were all here when I found you," Gwen explained. "You were all unmoving for quite a while. That's why I thought you were-" she fell off uncomfortably.

"Well whatever it was, I'm just _bloody_ glad it's over," Owen said, "Figures the _bloody_ solution would be a _bloody_ snog though." he looked at Jack accusingly.

"Welcome to Torchwood," Jack offered back with a shrug.

"What?" Gwen asked, looking between the two men. "Are you saying you two-.

Owen gaped at her, "Of _bloody_ course not. I have some standards, thank you." he shuddered at the idea.

Gwen looked relieved.

"Do you suppose any of it was real?" Tosh asked. She shivered, "It sure felt real."

"Don't know," Ianto said. "But I'm glad we didn't really have to find out."

"You mean whether or not having your _bloody_ organs pickled would affect you here?" Owen asked with a sneer.

Ianto gave him a level stare.

Owen held his hands up, "Don't get so brassed. I'm not the one who raised a three thousand year old psychopath-"

Jack turned to Tosh with an especially wide grin, "Have you always had those amazing battle warrior princess skills? You've been holding on out me, haven't you?"

Tosh looked even more embarrassed, "Jack-stop it."

"You were pretty amazing," Ianto joined in with a small smile and gently nudged her shoulder.

Owen huffed, "Her? I'm the one who saved the day, remember? She tried to kill us."

"And you almost got us killed with that book," Ianto pointed out to Owen.

"And you unleashed a _bloody_ mummy," Owen threw back.

"Children, children, let's stop playing the blame game," Jack said. "Unless there's a naked make out party involved afterwards-"

"Sorry guys, I didn't mean to hurt anyone-" Tosh started.

"Of course you didn't," Jack assured her. "Owen's just mad that you were more badass than him."

Owen opened his mouth for a rebuttal, but stopped, looking around he realized, "Aren't we missing one? Where's that _sodding_ Captain Hart?"

Gwen's eyes widened. "John Hart?"

"Yeah, he wasn't here when you found us?" Jack asked in confusion.

Gwen shook her head, "No, trust me I think I'd notice that _prat_ anywhere."

"Jack." Ianto's voice brought them all to the golden puzzle box sitting on a table. It was blossomed into its eight sided key shape and was glimmering in the light, "Look at this."

"It's been sitting there since I got here," Gwen said. "I was afraid to touch it."

"It's a good thing you didn't," Jack said. "But it does beg the question of what it is."

Owen snorted, "As long as there's no _bloody_ book for Ianto to read out of, I think we'll be fine."

"I don't know," Tosh ventured, "John activated it by touching it and it sent us-wherever we were. I wouldn't risk it getting into the wrong hands-again."

Jack studied the key carefully, not wanting to touch it. Ianto stared at it too. "I've never seen it before," Ianto mumbled. He grew irritable. He was supposed to know every single artifact that came in and out of Torchwood Three, "Why have I never seen it before?" He scooped it carefully into a container, until it could be dealt with properly.

There was a blip from Jack's wrist strap and Jack stared at it in surprise. He pressed a button and the flickering image of John Hart appeared. "Well that was fun Jack, wouldn't you say? I would say let's do it again, but I think one ride was enough for now. I'm sure you're wondering where I am-don't. And don't try to find me-you won't." he held his wristwatch as if to end the message, then stopped, "And put a better lock on your damn vault will you-" John blew a kiss, "Tootles."

" _Bloody wanker_ , I hope a mummy comes and eats him in his sleep."

"Alright that's it," Gwen said, hands on her hips in a stance that said she definitely wasn't backing down She eyed the three men and one woman moving from one to the next with a heavy stare. "Somebody better tell me what the _bloody_ hell happened. Mummies and pickled organs and books, not to mention John _bleeding_ Hart." Her last look was for Jack, "Start from the beginning."

"Could take a while," Jack said as if to detour her, suddenly a bit too tired to deal with a determined Gwen Cooper.

A dark brow rose under Gwen's black fringe, ' _and'_ her look said.

"I suppose I'll go get some coffee then," Ianto said before turning to leave.

Somedays Jack cursed the man's efficiency, but while he scowled at Ianto's actions, he couldn't help staring, wanting so badly to get that man out of his suit, even more so as he watched that spectacular arse in motion. He held back a groan as Gwen settled herself against a wall, readying herself for the long hall.

"Go on then," Gwen prompted. "Spill."

Tosh nearly rolled her eyes at the woman's pushiness and Owen mumbled a string of curses and wisely left the area.

Jack, as usual, gave Gwen her way.

* * *

"So," Ianto ventured as Owen, Tosh and Gwen vacated the Hub and Jack was hauling him toward the stairs and back to his _room_. After several scans from Owen it was decided they were all perfectly alright, further putting the mystery on exactly what the hell had happened to them. "I've been thinking-"

"I like it when you think, it's very sexy," Jack gave up the notion of making it to the bed and just started unbuttoning the man's shirt right there.

"Jack, I'm being serious-"

Jack smirked, but didn't stop his movements, brushing the warm skin peeking out from underneath the fabric with his fingertips, "You usually are, too serious, in fact."

"It's-" Ianto stopped. "Why do you think John was here to begin with? He looked like he was searching for something and I don't think it was that key."

Jack nodded, "He was, said I stole something from him."

"Did you?"

Jack gave a half shrug, "Don't know, maybe."

"What if he shows up again?"

Jack smiled, "I'll shoot him."

"That seems to be your solution for quite a lot of things recently."

Jack murmured a happy agreement, "I like using my gun."

"You know-"

Jack hummed against him.

Ianto wasn't sure he wanted to get into a discussion about John Hart right then, not with Jack's hands moving further down, shooting a tingling sensation down his spine. He was pretty tired and Jack would no doubt shut down at whatever question he asked anyway. "Owen brought up a good point, why do you think it was kissing that, pardon the cliché, broke the spell?"

Jack drew back and observed him, he finally shrugged, "Well at the risk of sounding even more cliché maybe since it was love that made the curse it was also love that broke it. So in a sense when we kissed each other it broke whatever was over us too."

Ianto snorted, "What like true love's kiss? Jack, you've been reading too many fairy tales."

Jack shrugged, "There's different kinds of love, Ianto. Maybe it wasn't true love per say, but the feelings we have for each other as comrades as a team."

Ianto eyes dimmed somewhat, he looked away and swallowed, "Of course you would say that-"

"I only meant-" Jack tried.

"I know what you meant," Ianto sighed. "It's okay Jack, I get it. Though I wonder if I had kissed Tosh or Owen would it have still worked?"

" _That_ I would have liked to see," Jack teased.

"I'm sure you would have," Ianto agreed with a small smile. "Though I suppose if Gwen were there it would have been-"

Jack grabbed his arm and pulled him closer, "Stop it," he hissed, slamming their mouths together.

Ianto sighed, it was no use bringing it up and he really didn't feel like fighting about Gwen Cooper or John Hart at the moment. Dealing with Jack Harkness' ex and would be conquest wasn't something Ianto had the strength for. "I was sort of thinking about learning Egyptian," he said suddenly.

Jack's hands froze; his eyes met Ianto's, his smile seemed to brighten tenfold as he moved his mouth to Ianto's neck, "You're not nearly as funny as you think you are, Ianto Jones," he murmured.

"And you _sir_ , are not nearly as charming as you think _you_ are," Ianto replied crisply. "Though I do suppose it's a good thing I've kept all my organs. It would be a shame if you had to resurrect me as a mummy."

Jack grinned and kissed him, trailing his mouth down his chest, "You know I would if I had to."

Ianto snorted over a laugh, "No you wouldn't."

Jack persisted, "I would-"

"No Jack, you wouldn't." Jack Harkness would never take that kind of risk, not for him.

Jack shook his head, "Can we go back to talking about how charming I am?" he asked, capturing Ianto's mouth once more.

Neither man could see the golden box glowing brightly inside the container. The key shook and shifted before finally closing.

Not that it would have mattered if it the object's closing had happened right before them, their eyes, hands and lips were otherwise distracted.

"For the record, I meant what I said." Jack whispered.

Ianto let Jack have his way, holding back his return words of _so did I_.

Somewhere an ancient voice whispered the same words Imhotep had said before his demise-

"Death is only the beginning."

END


End file.
